The Thief

“Boarders Must Breathe,” declares a headline, referring to the Health Commission’s draft regulations recently submitted to the municipalities.

The landlord sat by the kitchen fire
    Where the porridge pot was seething;
And he said to his wife, “Joy of my life,
    I hear a boarder breathing!”

And she cried, “How dare he steal our air?
    It’s just what I expected!
He has his bed and he’s been well fed!
    This wretch I’ve long suspected!”

“I saw last night that his eyes were bright,
    As if with respiration,
And the night before I heard him snore,
    This needs some explanation!”

They tip-toed soft to the dingy loft
    Where the boarder still was lying.
They listened there on the crazy stair
    And they plainly heard him sighing.

With an ugly sneer: “Our atmosphere,”
    The landlord cried, “You’re stealing!
Our children’s air is what we ill can spare.
    Wretch! Do you lack all feeling?”

With savage wrath they cast him forth,
    As he yelled in desperation.
But he quickly died of the air supplied
    By the City Corporation.