The Surrender

“Squizzy” Taylor, who absconded from bail while awaiting trial on a warehouse breaking charge in 1921, surrendered to the police yesterday.

We looked for him in Collins street,
    We hunted him in Bourke,
In Flinders lane we looked again,
    And, Lord, it was tough work!
We wore a lot of leather out
    A-hunting up and down;
But all the news that we could get
    Was “Squizzy’s not in town.”

We watched the haunts where he had been,
    Detectives by the score.
They searched and searched where gunmen lurched,
    And then they searched some more.
They even ventured in the streets
    Where no man’s life’s secure,
But all the faces that we met
    Were innocent and pure.

At times some sleuth would loudly cry,
    “By jove, that ain’t him! Is ’e?”
And some bored constable would say,
    “Lor’ blimey! That ain’t Squizzy!
You want to go to Little Lon.,
    If you should want to find him,”
But that detect said, “Carry on!
    We are the blokes who’ll mind him.”

And when they’d given up the search
    And did not give a damn;
Lo, Squizzy landed on the scene
    And said, “Well, here I am!
I think your methods have been crude;
    I feel that I am slighted.
You said there was a party on;
    But I’ve not been invited.”

“If you had told me,” Squizzy said,
    “You needed me intensely,
I should have answered to your call,
    ’Twould pleased me most immensely.
Excuse me, gentlemen, if I
    Should interrupt your leisure,
I’ve heard you have been seeking me.
    Nay! Pardon! Mine’s the pleasure.”