Bill Basher was a Hooligan,
The terror of the town,
A reputation he possessed
For knocking people down;
On unprotected persons
Of a sudden he would spring,
And hit them with his buckle-belt,
Which hurt like anything.
One day ten stalwart constables
Bill Basher took in charge.
"We cannot such a man," said they,
"Permit to roam at large;
He causes all the populace
To go about in fear;
We'd better take him to the Court
Of Mr. Justice Dear."
A tender Judge was he:
He was a great Philanthropist
(Spelt with a big, big "P").
His bump—phrenologists declared—
Of kindness was immense;
Altho' he somewhat lacked the bump
Of common, common sense.
"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the kindly Judge
A-looking very wise,
"Your conduct in arresting him
Quite fills me with surprise.
Poor fellow! Don't you see the lit-
Tle things which he has done
Were doubtless but dictated
By a sense of harmless fun?
"We really mustn't be too hard
Upon a man for that,
And I will not do more than just
Inflict a fine. That's flat!
See how he stands within the dock,
As mild as any lamb.
No! Sixpence fine. You are discharged.
Good morning, William."
Now strange to say, within a week,
Bill Basher had begun
To knock about a lot of other
People "just in fun."
He hit a young policeman
With a hammer on the head,
Until the poor young fellow
Was approximately dead.
"This really is too bad,
To hit policemen on the head
Is not polite, my lad,
I must remand you for a week
To think what can be done,
And, in the meantime, please remain
In cell one twenty one."
Then, Justice Dear, he pondered thus:
"Bill Basher ought to wed
Some good and noble woman;
Then he'd very soon be led
To see the error of his ways,
And give those errors o'er."
This scheme he thought upon again,
And liked it more and more.
A daughter had good Justice Dear,
Whose name was Angeline
(The lady's name is not pronounced
To rhyme with "line," but "leen"),
Not beautiful, but dutiful
As ever she could be;
Whatever her papa desired
She did obediently.
Together quickly went
To visit Basher in his cell
And show their kind intent.
* * *
His answer it was to the point,
Though couched in language queer,
These were the very words he used:
"Wot? Marry 'er? No fear!"
Good Justice Dear was greatly shocked;
Indeed, it was a blow
To find that such ingratitude
The Hooligan should show.
So he gave to Smith, the barrister,
His daughter for a wife,
While on Bill he passed this sentence—
"Penal servitude for life."