Classic Poem

[Squire Vanderpool, the judge]
John Deming, you convicted stand
Of beating one John Greiner.
I am in doubt if it be best
To place on you a fine, or
Commit you to Dick Dalton's charge
And let you this time try a
Trip to Charley Fellen's place
Via the Black Maria.

[Peter Eberhardt, grinning at the judge]
Your Honor, though I'd scorn so mean
An act as thrashing this Jim Green;
Yet let me say, most gracious Squire,
To be tried here I've no desire —
No[w] take my bail, and I'll report,
For Justice, at some higher court.

[Lunch-time solo by policeman charged with living on
same street with man who once voted Republican Ticket]
I feel, I feel, I feel, I feel like a played out " star, "
I feel, I feel, I feel, I feel like a played out " star, "
Ham Best, don't bodder me!
Ham Best, don't bodder me!

[Patrick Horan, convicted of stealing $3.10]
I am a noble foreigner
From Limerick in Spain
And, as you please, I'd like to be
At l[i]berty again.
I'm king bee wid the dimmy crats,
So pray be on your guard,
Or else next fall you'll find the deuce
To pay in the Eighth Ward.

[Squire Vanderpool's reply]
Sure Patrick, you varmint,
I think you have seen
Already this morning
Too much of " bensine "
Your head's in a muddle,
Yer snout's all ablaze,
Be away wid ye now
For a full sixty days.

[Summary of last indictment]
Mr. Henry T. Smith
Is a rascally cheat
Who wickedly sought
His poor landlord to beat.
It is painful, indeed,
The sad story to tell
How he swindled the landlord
Of Bonney's Hotel.
He ran up a big bill
Though in finances vested [busted?]
Left his trunk full of bricks
And got up and dusted.