The Broadsheet

A ‘souvenir’ broadsheet published in advance of Winsor’s execution

Exeter, Friday.  At the usual hour this morning Mrs Winsor expiated her crime on the gallows.  Thousands assembled in front of the gaol at a very early hour, and many had walked all night to see the execution.  Great commotion prevailed, and it was evident that the crowd viewed the execution of a woman as a novelty, while they freely discussed the fiendish nature of the culprit, and expressed their total abhorrence of one who could make a business of murdering illegitimate offspring’s.

The horrible nature of the woman’s crime (which needs not to be recapitulated here) so shocked the letter feelings of humanity, that when culprit and hangman stood side by side a fearful yell rose from the assembled crowd, and the excitement only ceased when the culprit, who struggled but little, ceased to exist.

You mothers all, come listen to me,
While a dreadful tale I tell,
Of all she crimes upon this earth,
This one that does all excel.
Children’s slaughtered fearlessly,
And by a woman’s hand,
Just for the sake of getting gold,
This woman you command.

This dreadful woman, Charlotte Winsor,
Took children in to nurse,
A devil she was in human form,
We could not call her worse;
She would tamper with their young mother,
With if you would like to pay,
For a few pounds, say three or four,
I will put your child away.

Those children belong to some poor girl
That had been led astray.
Mrs. Winsor would take them to nurse
As long as they would pay.
She would murder them –yes, strangle them
For this paltry gain,
By putting them between beds,
Or pressing the jugular vein.

What a must this wretch’s feelings be,
While the babes on her would smile,
She would kiss and feed them tenderly,
And murder all the while.
She would tamper with their motuers (?),
And of them beg and pray,
With get four pounds together dear,
And your child shall die to day.

She stifled one just three weeks old,
Jane Harris, she would say,
You will never see them after,
They will sink in the Torquay.
Dead children tell no tales,
And cause no more strife,
And with children smiling on her,
She would take away their life.

No one knows this woman’s crime,
The God’s a l eeing eye(?),
But justice overtook her,
And for those crimes she died.
The tempter and the murderess,
As you will see by these lines,
Has gone to face their maker,
And to answer for her crimes.