BY CARR.

Coming in to penal slavery,
Coming in from liberty;

Going out to joy and freedom,
Going out the world to see;

Coming in, oh, how unhappy!
Going out with many a doubt—

Endless stream of wretched mortals
Coming in and going out.

From the many charms of home life,
From beneath the humble cot,

To this penal institution
Where the felon mortal's brought

From some distant homes perhaps torn
Because grim justice took a fit—

Coming in with sighs and sadness,
A bondsman for his life or "bit."

Far his loving wife and children,
While their eyes with tears are wet;

Though his family needs him daily.
And there are bills that must be met,

To this convict world about us,
With its heartless woe and din,

Endless stream of restless mortals
Adding to its load of sin.

Time goes on so very slowly,
Though we try hard not to grieve

For the dear old family homestead
And for those we're forced to leave;

Weary are we very often,
Weary when we try to win

News of those who loved us dearly
Ere we took this step in sin.

Coming in, alas! to never
See the outside world again!

Some there are that have my pity:
Naught for them but toil and pain;

Doomed life's golden hours to fritter
Far from home and friends most dear—

God's pity on the poor full-termer
Coming in to die, we fear.

Coming in to serve our sentence,
Going out, we hope, to cheer;

Coming in to do hard labor,
Going out to family dear—

Careless stream of wretched mortals
From all stations 'long life's route—

Hovel, mansion and the hamlet—
Coming in and going out.