Sure! I am one who disbelieves In thieves; At which you interrupt to cry “Aye, aye, and I.”
Hmf! you're so sudden to agree. Suppose we see. I know a thief. No matter whether I ought to know a thief, or not.
Perhaps “we went to school together;” That old excuse is worked a lot. One day he “copped a rummy's leather,” Which means — I hate to tell you what.
It's such a vulgar thing to steal A drunkard's purse to buy a meal. “Hey, pal,” said he, “come help me dine; I've hit a pit and got the swag;
To-day, Delmonico's is mine; To-morrow once again a vag. Come on and tell me all the stunts Of all the boys who knew me — once.”
“Did I go with him?” I did not. Would you have gone? Could you be bought By dinners — when the trail was hot And any hour he might be caught?
I know a thief, whose operations Are colored by a kindly law. Your income and a beggar's rations Contribute to his cunning claw;
Cities and counties, courts and nations Pay portion to his monstrous maw. He gave a dinner not long since In honor of some played-out Prince.
The decorations, ah, how chaste! And how delicious was the wine! For Mrs. Thief has perfect taste And Mr. Thief knows how to dine.
And so the world has long agreed Quite to forgive, forget — and feed. But really I was shocked to see How many decent folks could be
Induced to come and bow the knee; I think you were my vis-a-vis. Yes, yes, I quite despise him, too, Like you;
And ( though it's not a thing to brag ) I somehow like the vag. But, oh, the difference one perceives Between two thieves!
Cookies on Poetry Cove