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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