While The Billy BoilsSearchIt has a “point” of neither sexBut comes in guise of both,And, doubly dangerous complex,It is a thing to loathe—A lady with her sweet, sad smile,A gentleman on oath.
Strip off the mother-veil, and fur!And signs of “quiet taste”.The dead child’s locket take from her(The dead man’s gift in haste)And wash from every evil lineThe layers of filling paste!
From “saddened eyes” the hell’s own glare!From “sweet mouth” blasphemy!Wrench out the gold-filled false teeth thereThat twice mock honesty,And leave the evil face awryFor married folk to see.
For foolish girl wives in despair,For men’s and children’s sakes,Let loose the glossed and padded hairTo writhe like scorching snakes!And strip the barren body bareTo show what Satan makes.
Aye! I could take her by the throatMore sure than hangman’s noose,And set my teeth and set my nails,And hate would set my thews.And fling her to the drought-starved swine,Were all my brethren Jews.
There was the kindest man I knew,Brave, handsome, straight and tall—Between his loved ones and the worldHe stood, a fortress wall.He whines, a ruined drunkard now,And this thing did it all.
There was the girl who married meAnd bore my children twain,We’ll never meet each other’s eyesLike boy and girl again.The very children’s love and trustBy this foul thing was slain.
There was a girl my manhood loved,She’d Love’s own red gold hair,And grey eyes that were Pity’s ownAnd courage that was rare.She sleeps amongst the suicides,And this thing sent her there.
And all because the town was dullAnd goodness was too tame,And people took no interestIn one they could not blame.And all because my life was cleanAnd I had won a name.
And now, for years of senseless hateAnd paltry, bitter strife,For “reparation” come too late,For sweetheart, mate and wife,I tread her vile heart in the dustAnd ashes of my life.