Classic Poem

Stinger and Gonoph and Peterman,
Dip and Yegg that prig and prey,
Flimp the thimble as fast as you can,
But still in the end it doesn't pay;
Stick up a Boob or strong-arm a Jay,
Snatch a Hanger or shove the Queer,
And square the Bulls for a getaway—
But where are the Crooks of Yesteryear?

There's Cush in the Keck for a little span,
Fagin or Booster may have his day,
Shine with Ice like a new tin pan,
But still in the end it doesn't pay!
Lagged by the Dicks of Fate are they
Whether they lammister far or near—
The lamps of justice are bum, you say?—
But where are the Crooks of Yesteryear?

No Stool may snitch or rap your plan,
You may never be settled in Stir to stay,
You never may ride in the Hurry-up Van,
But still, in the end, it doesn't pay.
The Level Lay is the only Lay,
Take it from me as a friendly steer—
The life of the Grafter is easy and gay?—
But where are the Crooks of Yesteryear?

Ask the Gonoph whose hair is gray
And he'll tell you straight that it doesn't pay;
When he's young and flush the Gon may sneer—
But where are the Crooks of Yesteryear?