Returning home from market one dull day,
Unfortunately without company,
George came in contact with some vagrants, who—
When he approach’d—their trade began t’renew:
One of the ruffians, dreadful in his look,
From ’neath his ragged coat a pistol took
And aimed it straight at George’s breast, and said—
“Give us your money or I’ll shoot you dead!”
Poor George, replying to the impulse, drew
His bag and gave it to the fiendish crew
(For there were four surrounded him, so he
Could not resist their hellish mimicry;
But felt content, as ’twere, to avoid the strife—
Which in their direful hearts was plainly rife),
Most thankful that the villains spared his life.
One of the brigands made all progress vain,
Another counted o’er the ravish’d gain,
The others in the rear ransack’d the cart,
Then, all uniting, off the ruffians start;
But dreamt not justice was so near at hand—
When at its bar each vagabond would stand
Confronted with the victim of the scene,
Besides a witness who, by chance, within
Th’ adjacent field, beheld and heard them urge
Their method of attack upon poor George;
Who saw the fray accomplishèd, and fled
To give instructions of the direful deed,—
Which subsequently led to their arrest
And their removal o’er the ocean’s breast.