We have heard of the Bird by which Roche won renown,
The Bird to posterity Boyle handed down,
The Bird which the schoolboy who is not a dunce
Will remember could be in two places at once;
But the Bird of Sir Boyle must now take a back seat,
While we sing of John Jackson’s more wonderful feat.
John Jackson has written his commonplace name
In the boldest of hands on the parchment of fame.
A convict, he played with his warder at spoof,
Then brained him, and made his escape through the roof;
Walked boldly away in a broad-arrow suit,
And nobody seems to have noticed his route.
None saw him depart, but, as if to atone,
He has never gone anywhere since an unknown;
All over the kingdom, in less than a week,
He has swaggered about with most marvellous cheek,
Appearing—no worse for his terrible crime—
In Hampstead and Hull at the very same time.
He’s been traced to Penzance with a tramp for his pal;
At Thurso, when seen, he was treating a gal;
At Epsom he passed a flash note in the ring,
Backed Ayrshire, and then was again on the wing.
Flying north, flying south, if we rumours believe,
Reaching Brighton and Glasgow the very same eve.
He’s been seen on the switchback, all over the town;
At Epping he knocked many cocoanuts down;
He has mixed with the parsons at Exeter Hall,
And he’ll doubtless be seen at her Majesty’s ball.
And he came up to London on purpose to see
The Princess’s drama, the Something-my-Chree.
So Jackson the murderer roams o’er the land—
One day in the Highlands, the next in the Strand;
Men, women, and children can see at a glance
He’s the chap who has led the police such a dance.
But they scorn to betray him by gesture or look,
And are “mum” till the murderer’s taken his hook.
O please, dear detectives, who’re still on the track,
We know that no skill, no devotion you lack;
We know that you’re bound the first moment you can
To collar this wicked and wonderful man.
But it’s better to let him go free for six “monce”
Than to take him in twenty-five places at once.