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.