To a Comrade Sped
Oh you fool, you! Who’d have thought it!
Dangling like a dog on string.
That poor spice, you’ve dearly bought it—
Lad, how does it feel to swing?
Did you kick when the hemp choked you,
And your heels danced in the air,
And the sweat of dying soaked you,
Struggling on the three-legged mare?
Swear you did! Your grin, my Billy,
Is not what it ought to be,
Thus to show your teeth is silly,
And not over good to see.
Dolly wouldn’t kiss that cheek, Sir,
With the veins swelled out so black,
Pretty Bab would squirm and shriek, Sir,
At the scars upon your back—
Which you had in gaol, my beauty,
Ere you gambolled on the crap,
Lud! the Sheriff did his duty,
Ordered you both rope and strap.
For you held the roads a-trembling,
Billy with the face so black;
Ah, I hear you—‘No dissembling!
Tip the steven—don’t be slack!’
Blowens screamed, and gemmen cursed you,
But you caved ’em with your pop,
Now, alas! the hemp has burst you,
Ere you reaped your nutty crop.
Oh you fool, you! Who’d have thought it!
Bowled out, trussed up, stark, and dead.
Ruffler crack, Egad! you’ve caught it,
Caught it fairly on the head.