Jon Brooks

Lyrics

There’s a four corner town north of where I grew up -
It used to be a village; it used be all scrub.
'Til Pennsylvania farmers dug the rock and felled the pine -
They called it "Hackett's Corners" 'til 1845.


It was October 3rd back in 1984.
She bought a Double Bubble at 3.45 or 4.
They were 'sposed to meet up - that's what Leslie Chipman said.
She wore a blue jacket with the hood around her head.


And yeah, we know all that – but know, no we never will,
We'll never know who killed that Jessop girl in Queensville.
Up in Queensville.


There are two stories that make the media go wild:
'The white serial killer' or 'the missing white child.'
The town was besieged by the tourists seeking dread
The town fell on the gossip like the wolves upon the dead.


Every family's a ruin, who knows what's over the hedge.
The Jessops, they were well beyond just rough around the edge.
Yeah, the uncle had secrets, and the brother borderline;
The mother was a social flail, the dad had done some time.


Only the guilty can see easily the innocent.
The rest of us see only the guilt in quiet men.
Even Guy Paul Morin knew that when he went away
He'd still be in the Kingston Pen if not for DNA.


Yeah, we know all that – but know, no we never will,
We'll never know who killed that Jessop girl in Queensville.
Up in Queensville.
Up in Queensville.


Off a corduroy road near the town of Sunderland.
Every old dog's got a reason if he won't come on command.
There's a cruelty in Nature on remains and body parts
And a cruelty more violent in every human heart.


Yeah, we know all that – but know, no we never will,
We'll never know who killed that Jessop girl in Queensville.
Up in Queensville.