"COME,collar this bad man
Around the throat he knotted me Till I to choke began In point of fact,garotted me!"
So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE
To JAMES,Policeman Thirtytwo
All ruffled with his fight SIR HERBERT was,and dirty too.
Policeman nothing said (Though he had much to say on it),But from the bad man's head He took the cap that lay on it.
"No,great SIR HERBERT WHITE
Impossible to take him up.
This man is honest quite
Wherever did you rake him up?
"For Burglars,Thieves,and Co.,Indeed,I'm no apologist,But I,some years ago,Assisted a Phrenologist.
"Observe his various bumps,His head as I uncover it:
His morals lie in lumps All round about and over it."
"Now take him,"said SIR WHITE,"Or you will soon be rueing it;Bless me!I must be right,
I caught the fellow doing it!"
Policeman calmly smiled,"Indeed you are mistaken,sir,You're agitated riled And very badly shaken,sir.
"Sit down,and I'll explain My system of Phrenology,A second,please,remain"(A second is horology).
Policeman left his beat
(The Bart.,no longer furious,Sat down upon a seat,Observing,"This is curious!")"Oh,surely,here are signs Should soften your rigidity:
This gentleman combines Politeness with timidity.
"Of Shyness here's a lump
A hole for Animosity
And like my fist his bump Of Impecuniosity.
"Just here the bump appears Of Innocent Hilarity,And just behind his ears Are Faith,and Hope,and Charity.
He of true Christian ways As bright example sent us is This maxim he obeys,'SORTE TUA CONTENTUS SIS.'
"There,let him go his ways,He needs no stern admonishing."
The Bart.,in blank amaze,Exclaimed,"This is astonishing!
"I MUST have made a mull,This matter I've been blind in it:
Examine,please,MY skull,And tell me what you find in it."
That Crusher looked,and said,With unimpaired urbanity,"SIR HERBERT,you've a head That teems with inhumanity.
"Here's Murder,Envy,Strife (Propensity to kill any),And Lies as large as life,And heaps of Social Villany.
"Here's Love of BranNew Clothes,Embezzling Arson Deism A taste for Slang and Oaths,And Fraudulent Trusteeism.
"Here's Love of Groundless Charge
Here's Malice,too,and Trickery,Unusually large Your bump of PocketPickery ""Stop!"said the Bart.,"my cup Is full I'm worse than him in all;Policeman,take me up
No doubt I am some criminal!"
That Pleeceman's scorn grew large (Phrenology had nettled it),He took that Bart.in charge I don't know how they settled it.
