What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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Robbery, Assault and Battery
The streets were deserted though the police were alerted
They considered the phone call a hoax
Furtively glancing the jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware
Slipping between them he ought to have seen the
The eyes and their owner so near
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe
"Hello son, I hope you're having fun"
"You've got it wrong Sir, I'm only the cleaner"
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
"You've done me wrong", it's the same old song forever
Robbery, ***ault and battery
The felon and his felony
He picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve
"Come outside with your hands held high"
"You'll not get me alive Sir, I promise you that Sir"
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
"You've done me wrong", it's the same old song forever
Robbery, ***ault and battery
The felon and his felony
"He's leaving via the roof, the bastard's got away
God always fights on the side of the bad man"
"I've got clean away but I'll be back some day
Just the combination will have changed
Some day they'll catch me, to a chain they'll attach me
But until that day I'll side the old crime wave
If they try to hold me for trial
I'll stay out of jail by paying my bail
And after I'll go to the court of appeal saying
"You've done me wrong", it's the same old song forever"