Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable flaw,
Temptation isn’t recognized by Britain’s Common Law;
Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch,
And William got a “lifer,” which annoyed him very much.
For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life in gaol,
He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale;
He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so
That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low.
And sympathetic gaolers would remark, “It’s very true,
He ain’t been brought up common, like the likes of me and you.”
So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops,
And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops.
Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in his fate,
Affected by the details of his pitiable state.
They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall,
Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call.
“Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting case:
A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace;
It’s telling on young William, who’s reduced to skin and bone—
Remember he’s a gentleman, with money of his own.
“He had an ample income, and of course he stands in need
Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed;
No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips—
He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips.
“He says the other prisoners are commonplace and rude;
He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food.
When quite a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad,
And other educational advantages he’s had.
“A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, a common thief
Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef,
Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,—
A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward.
“But beef and mutton-broth don’t seem to suit our William’s whim,
A boon to other prisoners—a punishment to him.
It never was intended that the discipline of gaol
Should dash a convict’s spirits, sir, or make him thin or pale.”
“Good Gracious Me!” that sympathetic Secretary cried,
“Suppose in prison fetters Mister William should have died!
Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for Life his sentence saith:
I’m very glad you mentioned it—it might have been For Death!