THE CONFESSION. 



On a cold, rainy night rather late in the fall, 



When the wail of the wind makes you think of the 

 dead, 



A despatch took me out on a very strange call, 



'Twas to hear a confession. This is what was said. 



'When I'm dead tell the men not to bury me deep ; 



Dig my grave by the big sandy bluff near the road, 

 So my bones can forever be near the hoof beat 



Of the teams as they pass up the hill with a load. 



"And I'll tell you, but Jack, do not call me a slink, 

 I am guilty and stopped your brown mare at the 

 Bay; 



But, dear Jack, when I did it they gave me the wink, 

 And remember, you bounced me the very next day. 



"The touts paid for a dinner and opened some wine, 

 And we then had a box at a vaudeville show; 



The next day when I pulled her they said it was fine, 

 But they soon cut me dead and I saw I could go. 



"You now know that I stole, still you're smoothing 

 the way 



For a villain who cheated you. These are the facts. 

 You have good cause to leave me and let the town pay 



For the box to hide me. I'm ashamed of my acts. 



"It almost broke my heart when I had to get down ; 



I was poor and help's scarce when you're loaded 

 with grief; 

 In a week I was starving ; in two weeks the town 



Had to aid me because I was marked as a thief. 



