Ireland for the Irish Rhymes and Reasons Against Landlordism with a Preface on Fenianism and Republicanism. By W. J. Linton, Formerly of the Irish "Nation" |
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HOW IT WAS STOLEN |
 | Ireland for the Irish |  |
HOW IT WAS STOLEN
Come, tell us, said Bob to Dick—his pal,
How you stole the poor man's spade!
There's honour 'mong thieves, we know, for all
There's none between two of a trade.
What matters the method now, said he:
And indeed I scarcely know
If 'twere taken by force or roguery,—
I had it so long ago.
How you stole the poor man's spade!
There's honour 'mong thieves, we know, for all
There's none between two of a trade.
What matters the method now, said he:
And indeed I scarcely know
If 'twere taken by force or roguery,—
I had it so long ago.
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And perhaps I did not steal it at all,
But bought it of one who had:
Your buyer of stolen goods men call
A respectable dealer, lad!
You see there's a mighty difference:
While I hang for stealing a horse,
The burly justice looks over a “fence,”—
For that's only a thing of course.
But bought it of one who had:
Your buyer of stolen goods men call
A respectable dealer, lad!
You see there's a mighty difference:
While I hang for stealing a horse,
The burly justice looks over a “fence,”—
For that's only a thing of course.
But tell us, said one who was passing by
How you stole the poor man's land:
For you left him the spade. Dick wink'd his eye:
How the deuce could he understand?—
The inquest sat on the highway-side:
Dick gave the crowner a nod;
And his pals return'd that—the poor man died
“By the visitation of God.”
How you stole the poor man's land:
For you left him the spade. Dick wink'd his eye:
How the deuce could he understand?—
The inquest sat on the highway-side:
Dick gave the crowner a nod;
And his pals return'd that—the poor man died
“By the visitation of God.”
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