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Prison Poetry

One and a Few.

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BY 21069.

Of all the pet pleasures so pleasing to man In his present degenerate state,

I doubt if there's any can make him so glad As the one I'm about to relate.

While here he's confined he's troubled in mind With his "fifteen" or "twenty" to do,

And he longs for the day when he boldly can say: "I've only got one and a few."

Then keep a strong heart. With courage don't part, But manfully fight your way through;

Be it "five" or it "ten" or twice that again, 'Twill come down to "one and a few."

How often at night when I sit in my cell, After working quite hard all the day,

My memory goes back to the time that I fell, For the "bit" which I now have to stay.

And sometimes, I own, while sitting alone I feel sad and disconsolate, too;

But it makes me feel gay when I think I can say, "I've only got one and a few."

Oh, many's a home that's cheerless tonight, And many's the mother feels drear;

When she thinks of the one far away from her sight It causes her many a tear.

Though others may cleave to her, you are the same; Misfortune but makes her more true;

She may now be quite sad, but won't she feel glad When you've only got "one and a few?"

Then, don't be discouraged. No matter how long In this prison you may have to stay,

You know that to worry and fret is quite wrong, Far better drive dull care away.

Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroy As he jogs along, contented and true;

And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend That brought you to "one and a few."

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