In Fleet Street, that's in London Town,
When good Prince Charlie wore the crown,
There lived a man of great renown –
"Spooky, Violent, Grim and Bloodthirsty"

I'm not sure I know any such ditties...

One Sweeney Todd the Barber;
One shave from him, you'd want no more,
You'd feel his razor sharp –
Bang, wallop, fall through the floor,
And wake up playing the harp while singing:

Sweeney Todd the Barber!
By God, he was better than a play!
Sweeney Todd the Barber!
"I'll polish 'em off," he used to say.
His clients through the floor would slope,
But he had no fear of the hangman's rope;
"Dead men don't talk with their months full of soap!"
Said Sweeney Todd the Barber.

Or maybe:

Down the drafty corridors for miles and miles she goes,
She often catches cold at night for it's drafty when it blows,
And it's awfully, awfully, awkward for the queen to blow her nose,
With her head tucked underneath her arm!

Or maybe:

There was blood on the saddle,
And blood all around,
And a great big puddle of blooooood on the ground!

Cheerily,
Charley Ignoble