Pox upon thee little fellow,
creep and fink with stripe of yellow.
The gang you squealed on has the urge
to strum and sing your funeral dirge.
Into the drink you should have went,
neatly cased in wet cement.
Delinquency can be a blight
when guys like you don't do it right.
Seeing you I hate to think
that I was once a lousy fink.