HE was a courteous manager--a Bosser of the Bank,
He filled the post of Chairman, and other seats of rank.
But he was never envied, his screw was almost nil--
Ten thousand pounds per annum, and chances from the till.
One day, when he was wiping his specks, thought he, "I hold,
I'm working all for nothing by a heap of solid gold.
I'll make of it a custom, a couple of months or so,
To leave the strong room open as in and out I go.
And fitfully in absence of mind, I'll drop my bunch
Of keys about, and leave them when going down for lunch.
The point of which is plainly, that on a certain night,
I'll seize on all the Bullion, and fix it out of sight.
I will not be suspected, I'll do whate'er I please,
For I have clinked the vintage with nobles and M.P.'s;
And though I know he's honest, I'll make it so appear,
That I will prove the robber, is the honest young cashier.
[Illustration]
They'll pass a vote of censure, that I did leave behind,
My keys, and strong room open, but, pshaw! I need not mind.
'Twill come out on the trial, I'll make it sure and clear,
'Twas all of too much trust in the honest young cashier."
He left the strong room open; he left his keys about,
Upon his mantle-shelf, and desk, anon when he went out--
A custom not unnoticed by him, the young cashier,
Who got a stick of wax, and what he did with it is clear.
One night there was a darkness, like crape upon the land,
And such a gust and thunder, a man could hardly stand.
The tempest was so fearsome, that if you spoke in shouts,
'Twould only be a tangle of tipsy words and doubts.
'Twas on that gloomy evening, the honest young cashier,
Bespoke him to the manager, and "Sir," said he, "Look here,
The staff is nearly idle, and so I think you might
Excuse me now, I'm wanting to do a thing to-night?"
[Illustration]
"Well, you may go and do it." He went, and down he stole
Into the lonely coal-hole, behind a lump of coal,
And trussed him like a hedgehog upon the slack till sure,
He heard the distant slamming, that closed the outer door.
Then stole him from the coal-hole, he stole him up the stairs,
He ambushed on the landing, for fear of unawares.
He stole into the strong-room, and stealing out his key,
He stole it to the keyhole, and opened cautiously.
He looted off that evening as much as he could hold,
'Twas close on half a million, and all in solid gold.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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