Convicts Love Canaries

 Dick's dead! It was the Polack guard
Put powdered glass into his cage
When I was tramping round the yard,--
I could have killed him in my rage.

I slugged him with that wrench I stole:
That's why I'm rotting in the Hole.


Dick's dead! Sure I wish I was too.

His honey breast, his lacy claws
I kissed and cried, for well I knew
They murdered him.
 I cursed because
He was my only chum on earth .
 .
 .

Oh how he cheered me with his mirth!

Dick's dead! I know he cared for me.

Being I'm Irish I love song,
And there was heaven in his glee;
I'd bless his heart the dour day long.

I'd let him flutter round the cell;
He'd light upon my hand .
 .
 .
 Oh hell!

Dick's dead! They've thrown me in the Hole.

To break our spirits how they try!
My bed a plank, blind as a mole,
Sure I'll be nuts before I die .
 .
 .

Here in the night, dark as the Pit
I'm seeing sunny wings aflit.

Here in the silence, hark his song!
--Poor Dick! Oh Christ, how long, how long!

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