Gentle Gaoler

 Being a gaoler I'm supposed
 To be a hard-boiled guy;
Yet never prison walls enclosed
 A kinder soul than I:
Passing my charges precious pills
 To end their ills.

And if in gentle sleep they die,
 And pass to pleasant peace,
No one suspects that it is I
 Who gave them their release:
No matter what the Doctor thinks,
 The Warden winks.

A lifer's is a fearful fate;
 It wrings the heart of me.
And what a saving to the State
 A sudden death must be!
Doomed men should have the legal right
 To end their plight.

And so my veronel they take,
 And bid goodbye to pain;
And sleep, and never, never wake
 To living hell again:
Oh call me curst or call me blest,--
 I give them rest.

Form: Ballad

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