The Boston Burglar
I was born in Boston City, a city you all know well,
Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell,
Brought up by honest parents and raised most tenderly,
Till I became a roving man at the age of twenty-three.
My character was taken then, and I was sent to jail.
My friends they found it was in vain to get me out on bail.
The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down,
The judge he passed me sentence and I was sent to Charleston town.
You ought to have seen my aged father a-pleading at the bar,
Also my dear old mother a-tearing of her hair,
Tearing of her old gray locks as the tears came rolling down,
Saying, "Son, dear son, what have you done, that you are sent to Charleston town?"
They put me aboard an eastbound train one cold December day,
And every station that we passed, I'd hear the people say,
"There goes a noted burglar, in strong chains he'll be bound,—
For the doing of some crime or other he is sent to Charleston town."
There is a girl in Boston, she is a girl that I love well,
And if I ever gain my liberty, along with her I'll dwell;
And when I regain my liberty, bad company I will shun,
Night-walking, gambling, and also drinking rum.
Now, you who have your liberty, pray keep it if you can,
And don't go around the streets at night to break the laws of man;
For if you do you'll surely rue and find yourself like me,
A-serving out my twenty-one years in the penitentiary.