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!