Classic Poem

Now I've caught you; hush your squeakin';
Now I've got you with the goods.
You're the fellah who's been sneakin'
To my shanty from the woods.
You're the fellah who's been makin'
Such a nuisance of himself;
You're the fellah who's been takin'
Soda crackers from the shelf.

Thought I'd think a rat had done it,
Thought you fooled me—an' you did.
When you heard me comin', run it
For your burrow an' you hid.
But to-day I caught you squarely,
Caught you with a cracker, too;
But to-day I caught you fairly.
Now what shall I do with you?

Don't you know that diggin' under
Some one's shanty any time,
Totin' off your little plunder,
Mr. Chipmunk, is a crime?
Oh, you're sorry, an' you're squealin',
Now I've got you dead-to-rights;
Don't you know it's wicked stealin'
Crackers, even little bites?

Folks a-swipin' from a cabin
For their crime had ought to pay,
Folks a neighbor's goods a-grabbin'
Should be punished right away.
But it seems there now an' then are
People like you that I know;
Maybe you're no worse than men are—
So I guess I'll let you go.