  Bill Basher was a Hooligan, The terror of the town, A reputation he possessed For knocking people down; On unprotected persons Of a sudden he would spring, And hit them with his buckle-belt, Which hurt like anything. One day ten stalwart constables Bill Basher took in charge. "We cannot such a man," said they, "Permit to roam at large; He causes all the populace To go about in fear; We'd better take him to the Court Of Mr. Justice Dear." A tender Judge was he: He was a great Philanthropist (Spelt with a big, big "P"). His bump—phrenologists declared— Of kindness was immense; Altho' he somewhat lacked the bump Of common, common sense. "Dear, dear!" exclaimed the kindly Judge A-looking very wise, "Your conduct in arresting him Quite fills me with surprise. Poor fellow! Don't you see the lit- Tle things which he has done Were doubtless but dictated By a sense of harmless fun? "We really mustn't be too hard Upon a man for that, And I will not do more than just Inflict a fine. That's flat! See how he stands within the dock, As mild as any lamb. No! Sixpence fine. You are discharged. Good morning, William." Now strange to say, within a week, Bill Basher had begun To knock about a lot of other People "just in fun." He hit a young policeman With a hammer on the head, Until the poor young fellow Was approximately dead. "This really is too bad, To hit policemen on the head Is not polite, my lad, I must remand you for a week To think what can be done, And, in the meantime, please remain In cell one twenty one." Then, Justice Dear, he pondered thus: "Bill Basher ought to wed Some good and noble woman; Then he'd very soon be led To see the error of his ways, And give those errors o'er." This scheme he thought upon again, And liked it more and more. A daughter had good Justice Dear, Whose name was Angeline (The lady's name is not pronounced To rhyme with "line," but "leen"), Not beautiful, but dutiful As ever she could be; Whatever her papa desired She did obediently. And told her that he thought, In the interests of humanity, To marry Bill she ought. And, though she loved a barrister Named Smith, her grief she hid And, with a stifled sigh, prepared To do as she was bid. Together quickly went To visit Basher in his cell And show their kind intent. * * * His answer it was to the point, Though couched in language queer, These were the very words he used: "Wot? Marry 'er? No fear!" Good Justice Dear was greatly shocked; Indeed, it was a blow To find that such ingratitude The Hooligan should show. So he gave to Smith, the barrister, His daughter for a wife, While on Bill he passed this sentence— "Penal servitude for life."
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