FLOG'D IN JAIL!

RECITATION

WHE wad pity a drunken brute
That struck a helpless man?
That robbed an' nearly killed, for drink,
A poor an' crippled man?
An' whe wes this unfeelin wretch?
That rascal, Fightin Dan!

Thor's sum, if they can use thor fists,
Such greet advantage take;
They'll double't in yor varry fyece,
Te put ye in a shake,
Te myek ye give what ye refuse
If ye are wideawake.

An' so did Dan treat this poor man,
Aw've mentioned once before:
He tried te myek him pay for drink,
An' then he cursed an' swore,
Then followed him up sum byway
The villainI-like a cur !

'Twes nearly murder: but he lived
Te limp doon te the court,
An' there describe the foul attack,
An' tell where he wes hurt;
The sentence that Dan got that day
Wes onything but sport.

For days he waited i' the jail,
Till one day, tiv his ward,
The turnkey com te tell him he
Wes wanted in the yard.
He seun wes stript an' fastened up
"Gan at it I-hit him hard!"

An' so they did: they hit him hard,
An' Dan turned varry pale ;
Tho seldum frightened ov a man,
The "cat" seun myed him quail.
He yeIled,-it hurt his feelins se,
This bein fiog'd i' jail.

He cried for marcy!- mark the words !
For marcy, at each stroke!
But had he any marcy for
The man he tried te choke?
No! not a bit; not even if
His victim's neck had broke!

Ne pity for the hardened wretch;
Ne sympathy or fear:
Thor'sower mony like him, an'
We divvent want them here:
Thor's sum wad commit ony crime,
Ay, murder, for thor beer!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890