With words we dare not speak,
Upon the fateful morrow,
They stood before the beak.
The “slops” had watched their capers,
And soon their way had barred,
And, according to the papers,
They each got six months hard!
“Oh cruel lights of London, why do you shine so gay?
A-showing up poor burgulars, to steal their peace away.”
S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald.