THE LITTLE THIEF

Thief! Thief! There! Here!
These mindless rants filled up the air,
A little thief ran out of sight
Followed by feet; a dozen pair.

Up the street he ran
Down the street he went,
To catch him the crowd
Was nearly hell bent.

Finally a pebble got the better of our fiend
And tossing and tumbling he did fall down,
The crowd finally had caught up with him
But his face was clear; not even a frown.

“Let’s call the police!” a meek logic
Went as soon as it had come,
The crowd began with their judgment
They beat the boy till he fell numb.

The boy didn’t give them a fight
Nor did the crowd give him a shot,
They beat him here and beat him there
They were angry; Red Hot!

The boy had gone sore and pale
The little blood belied his pain,
He had not eaten for several days
He didn’t have much blood left to drain.

“He has had enough” said a Samaritan
When he had had his fill,
“He has had enough, let him go
We are not here to make a kill”.

So they left their victim, and reluctantly
Did leave the ‘pack’ of men,
Into the society whence they came,
Into their most natural den.

“What had he stolen?” no one asked
And I am afraid the answer will never be got,
For the boy had not the strength to speak
And the strength to live? He had not.

So the boy went, Oh! The poor soul
Hopefully to a place for civilized than this,
Where fathers kill a little boy
For a piece of bread they’ll never miss.