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Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold

By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition

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THE BUTCHER (BEN).

Butcher Ben is a killer
Of dogs and of cats,
And a hardened fulfiller
Of death to all rats;
With a mongrel behind and a pipe in his lips
And a hand that holds fast on the sharpest of whips,
He strolls blear-eyed and blinking
And slouching and slinking
With the shiftiest glance and irresolute tread,
And a moleskin cap stuck on the back of his head;

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As if he can't determine,
If you are not vermin.
Butcher Ben loves the slaughter
Of innocent beasts,
Though he has one dear daughter
He fondles and feasts;
And if red from the torture of helpless dumb things,
He'd not ruffle her hair nor her white apron strings;
But he goes shy and shambling
On murderous rambling,
From one court to another in quest of the food
And the sport that is bliss to his barbarous mood;
He is cunning and cruel,
And to him pain is gruel.
Butcher Ben has indwelling
An infinite lust
Of destruction, rebelling
At kindness and trust;
He thinks mercy is weakness and gentleness fear,
And to him any sight that looks dreadful is dear;
And his wife undetected
Was soon vivisected,
Though devotion to him was her singular fault,
With the scalpel of savage abuse and assault;
While his dog won the petting,
She had the forgetting.
Butcher Ben has a fashion
We do not admire,
For mere blood wakes a passion
In him none desire;
And the tiger in all at the bottom seethes up
In his nature, as dregs from an unwashen cup;
Though he scuttles and scrambles
To all the near shambles,
Yet he keeps a warm corner deep in his cold heart
For the daughter he spoils with a princess's part;
“Rover” first must be reckon'd,
But she is a good second.