Leonard Pounds and
Cuthbert Clarke (1921)
I fear every shadow, and corner that's dark
Each cranny I furtively scan
In terror I list' for the dread bloodhound's bark
I'm a hunted, hunted man
Grim Nemesis dogs me where'er I may flee
Raised against me's the hand of each man
No grip of friendship's extended to me
For I'm under Society's ban.
Through good fortune I've managed thus far to get clear
I escaped when confusion was high
But I haven't eluded that fury called fear
And He whispers that capture is nigh
I've existed on crusts that were thrown to the birds
From puddles I've satisfied thirst
When I've slept, dreams that won't find expression in words
Have made slumber a thing most accurst.
Yet I can't feel remorse - the sin was not mine
My fault lay in weakness of mind
My assistance was asked, and I p'r'aps was in wine
But to friends I have ever been kind
They besought - I succumbed - and the evil was done
Why, oh, why did I ever agree?
Yet I swear 'twas not my fault they lost six to none
I was merely the Poor REFEREE!!!
The end