Among the frigid walls,
Of London's slums,
Where for each penny
In grave you'll succumb!
There lived a cunning chap,
A crafty, sly fox;
He confused people's minds,
As time he outfoxed.
«Stealing from a shop's no big deal~»,
He sees no harm in that zeal.
He'll make you steal, it's his ideal,
Plant thoughts that you will feel are real.
You glance at the clock in a daze,
He's hypnotized you, the craze!
Now you're forced to steal and pilfer,
Hand it all over to this trickster...
Every bright daylight
To the park he does go.
With his pocket watch
Into slumber you'll flow.
He'll make you steal
A treasure from the store;
Then in late hour
Your memory he'll erase for sure.
The act of greed was plain to see,
That dandy struck the hypnotist.
By day the trance did not prevail:
The fop's sharp gaze did pierce and impale.
The crook obediently fell into a doze;
At will of the fop, in jail again he rose.
Why here, the cheat
Did ponder in defeat.
Revenge?!