In one poem the lawless bard gives an account of a day's life in gaol,
and his coarse phrases make you almost feel the cold and hunger. Here
are some scraps from this descriptive work:--
"Till seven we walk around the yard,
There is a man all to you guard.
If you put your hand out so,
Untoe the guv'nor you must go;
Eight o'clock is our breakfast hour,
Those wittles they do soon devour;
Oh! dear me, how they eat and stuff,
Lave off with less than half enough.
Nine o'clock you mount the mill,
That you mayn't cramp from settin' still.
If that be ever so against your will,
You must mount on the traaedin' mill.
There is a turnkey that you'll find
He is a raskill most unkind.
To rob poor prisoners he is that man,
To chaaete poor prisoners where he can.
At eleven o'clock we march upstairs
To hear the parson read the prayers.
Then we are locked into a pen--
It's almost like a lion's den.
There's iron bars big round as your thigh,
To make you of a prison shy.
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