Page 45 - Poetry-Family

Ballad of the Burglar

It was a wicked burglar,
Who with his jimmy pried
And twisted at the window,
And soon he was inside.
It was the wakeful wify
Who clutched her husband’s arm
And in a voice that trembled
Told him of her alarm.
She said “I heard the burglar
As he was creeping in
And heard him curse the rocker
That struck upon his shin.

“Since then within the pantry
Strange noise I hear him make;
I fear that he has eaten
My first, my only cake.

“Oh, hubby, hasten swiftly
And summon the police
And have them take to prison
This breaker of our peace!”
It is the brutal husband
Who cynically sneers
At what his wify tells him
And snickers at her fears.
He says, “If this poor burglar
Has eaten all that cake,
The coroner I’ll send for
When morning light doth break.”
It is a carven tombstone
Which tells, in letters good,
“A Burglar, With the Angels,
From Eating Angel Food!”
—(The Baltimore American)

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