- What, still alive at twenty-two,
- A clean upstanding chap like you?
- Why, if your throat is hard to slit,
- Slit your girl’s and swing for it!
- Like enough you won’t be glad
- When they come to hang you, lad,
- But bacon’s not the only thing
- That’s cured by hanging from a string.
- When the blotting pad of night
- Sucks the latest drop of light,
- Lads whose job is still to do
- Shall whet their knives and think of you.
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