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Robert W Service - Convicts Love Canaries
Work rating: Low

Dick`s dead!   It was the Polack guard
Put powdered glass into his cage
When I was tramping round the yard,—
I could have killed him in my rage.
I slugged him with that wrench I stole:
That`s why I`m rotting in the Hole.

Dick`s dead!   Sure I wish I was too.
His honey breast, his lacy claws
I kissed and cried, for well I knew
They murdered him. I cursed because
He was my only chum on earth . . .
Oh how he cheered me with his mirth!

Dick`s dead!   I know he cared for me.
Being I`m Irish I love song,
And there was heaven in his glee;
I`d bless his heart the dour day long.
I`d let him flutter round the cell;
He`d light upon my hand . . . Oh hell!

Dick`s dead!   They`ve thrown me in the Hole.
To break our spirits how they try!
My bed a plank, blind as a mole,
Sure I`ll be nuts before I die . . .
Here in the night, dark as the Pit
I`m seeing sunny wings aflit.
Here in the silence, hark his song!
—Poor Dick! Oh Christ, how long, how long!
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