Poetry Archives

I much admire, I must admit,
          The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
          For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap ’twould make of me
          You wouldn’t ask to tea.

I do not mean a burglar cove
          Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
          As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
          With him who robs a Bank.

Who seemeth not to care a whoop
          For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as ’soup,’
          And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
          I doff my bowler hat.

I think he is the kind of stuff
          To be a mighty man
In battlefield,—aye, brave enough
          The Cross Victorian
To win and rise to high command,
          A hero in the land.

What General with all his swank
Has guts enough to rob a Bank!