(Onset
has a daring and persistent barefoot
burglar. News)
Shadows
in thee, midnight sneak,
Barefoot
burglar with thy cheek;
With
thy turned-up trouser legs
Showing
both thy naked pegs,
And
thy darkened visage, say,
Take
thee hence and far away!
‘Twould
be bad enough to wake
Ere
the morning’s golden break,
And
behold beside the bed
Masked
about thy brutal head,
Standing,
with a gun in hand,
Thy
bad, burgling, bold brigand;
But
to waken from a sleep
That
was silent, sweet and deep,
To
behold thee, burglar, there
With
a firm and murderous air
Trousers
rolled up, none too neat,
With
no shoes upon thy feet,
Corns
protruding, toes agleam,
What
a nightmare from a dream!
Doubtless
in the days to come,
At
the closing of thy bum
And
thy soft, catlike career,
Thou
wilt get thy offspring’s ear,
And
will say to him no doubt,
With
thy chest protruding out:
“Blessings
on thee little man,
Do
most anyone you can;
Leave
your shoes outside the joint,
‘Still’s’
the language, see the point?
Make
no sound, not e’en a gurg’,
I
was once a barefoot burg’”
Aug. 11, 1910
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