Here's an old ballad to cheer you up, all blood and general mayhem. My mother and her Greenwich Village friends used to amuse themselves in the early 1930's be singing a version of it. It's probably from the Southern Appalachians or maybe older. It clearly was folk-processed by the college crowd in the version printed below, as collected by Dick and Beth Best. I've failed to find an earlier version in my search but maybe you can:

RATTIN FAMILY, THE

(Anon., in Dick & Beth Best's SONG FEST DELUXE, 1970 edition, pp. 66-67)

Home came old Pa Rattin,
A-drinkin' he had been,
He knocked upon the front door,
And bellowed, "Let me in!"

First came old Ma Rattin,
She came to let him in,
He stuck her with the bread knife,
And let the daylight in.

Then came Grandma Rattin,
A sittin' by the fire,
He snuck up close behind her,
And choked her with a wire.

Then came Grandpa Rattin,
Old and feeble and gray,
He put up an awful struggle,
Until his strength gave way.

Then came sister Rattin,
A-playin' with a doll,
He shot her in the temple,
Just to see which way she'd fall.

Then came Baby Rattin,
Asleep in her trundle bed,
He kicked her in the short ribs
Until the child was dead,
And spat terbaccer juice
All over her golden head.

Then came play-boy Rattin,
Drove up in his limousine,
He wrapped him in old newspapers,
And poured on gasoline,
And lit him with a blowtorch
Just to hear the old boy scream.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble