An Apt Pupil

Knockin' about (said Benny, the Tough)
   By the Rocks an' Woolloomooloo,
Oh, I was a low-brow, right enough,
   And a bit of a bounder, too.
Kickin' about with me larrikin band,
   I was always gittin' in bad;
Till the kindly cops took me in hand,
   An', lissen, I've been glad.

I was a tough when life begun,
   An' me ideels was not high --
Doin' the things that "are not done,"
   Disgracin' me old school tie.
Me feet was set on the downward road,
   A crook I was, an' a cad,
Till the genteel cops taught me a Code --
   An', lissen, I was glad.

Doin' sich things as I never had ort,
   Soilin' the family name,
With never a notion of good, clean sport
   Or the pride of playin' the game.
The dirtiest fighter in all the Rocks,
   That's the sort of name I had,
Till the manly cops taught me to box;
   An', lissen, I was glad.

Playin' the game with a good straight bat,
   Scornin' the bottle an' boot;
Turnin' meself from a wharfside rat
   To a reel nice-livin' coot.
Learnin' to battle without 'arf-bricks
   Or with pickets, as once I had --
For the good cops taught me their rastlin' tricks --
   An', lissen, I was glad.

But flesh is weak; an' I fell from grace,
   An' I goes an' I drifts right back,
An' burgled a bit of a jeweller's place;
   An' a cop gets on me track,
But I meets his rush with a good straight right,
   An' I reckon he got reel mad
To think that the cops taught me to fight.
   But, lissen, I was glad.

Then a crowd of his pals come off their beats;
   But I takes to me heels an' clears,
An' I leads 'em a marathon thro' the streets
   While they lumbers and puffs in the rear.
Then I loses 'em all when I'd had me fun,
   An' I sprints like a race-course prad.
For me cobbers the cops taught me to run,
   An', lissen, was I glad?