Sensitive Burglar
Selecting in the dining—room
The silver of his choice,
The burglar heard from chamber gloom
A female voice.
As cold and bitter as a toad,
She spat a nasty name,
So even as his swag he stowed
He blushed for shame.
‘You dirty dog!’ he heard her say,
'I sniff your whisky stench.
I bet you’ve gambled half your pay,
Or blown it on a wench.
Begone from here, you rakehell boor!
You shame the human race.
What wife would pillow—share with your
Disgusting face!'
A tear the tender burglar shed,
Then indignation rose,
And swiftly striding to her bed
He said: 'I’m none of those.
I am a connoisseur in crime
And felonies I plan . . .
But otherwise, believe me I’m
A GENTLEMAN.'
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