[HELENA]
Thank God for that — the sheep has been sheared!
I don't know how men live through heat with a beard!
Gladly, I shed this tent of a coat
My explanation, I now emote!

My motive in taking this role
Of a wigged and white-whiskered soul
Was to ably disguise
My most feminine size
While I'd take an inquiring stroll

For strangers who'll chat with a chap
And reveal this and that in a snap
Are remarkably leery
Of women who query
Too much, it's a great handicap

So this disguise saw me through it
Playing the part of a man!
Really, there's nothing much to it—
Most any animal can!
Climbing out on a limerick, out on a limerick
Out on a limerick air!

I found a theatrical kit
And as Datchery, I did my bit
So to clear Neville's name
(I confess, to my shame
Twas for vengeance as well, I admit)
I followed John Jasper high-low
Found the dens he descends to below
And when Puffer came here
Twas immediately clear
My suspicion was quite apropos!

So I crept in the lodgings of Jasper
Dressed in that wig, what a sight!
There I found Rosa Bud's clasp, her
Mother's she gave Drood that night!

Jasper took it from Ned
After hurling him dead
From the Weir riverbed, I suppose
Helena Datchery knows!

And the proof is quite clear
Let us bring Jasper here
To be tried and then tied up and strung!

And from this limerick, let him be hung!