A Newgate Ballad.
HERE'S a structure whose battle-
ments gloomily frown
From the brow of a moun-
tainous height;
And the people go up and the
people go down
By that mansion from dawn
until night.
I viewed it with terror in in-
fancy's days,
I've a latent respect for it still;
Many sentiments thrill me whenever I gaze
At the House on the Top of a Hill.
Permission to enter that fortress I find
Can be got from a judge now and then,
Through a letter of recommendation that's sign'd
By a dozen respectable men.
You have merely to put a friend out of the way,
Or abstract the contents of his till,
To make yourself heartily welcome, they say,
At the House on the Top of a Hill.
There is lodging and board for the destitute poor,
With a diet nutritious though cheap;
And at evening they kindly make sure of your door,
Just in case you should walk in your sleep.
There's a medical man to attend on the guests,
And a chaplain who strives to instil
The most laudable sentiments into their breasts
At the House on the Top of a Hill.
Ev'ry guest has a private apartment;—in fact,
It's a kind of luxurious hotel,
Where a man who commits any praiseworthy act
Can be treated remarkably well.
Nay; it's better than many hotels you can find,
For they never present any bill;
But they patch you up gratis in body and mind
At the House on the Top of a Hill.