Classic Poem

It was down in the level land
A murder come to light;
The death of Bernard Friley
'Twas on a Monday night.

His body was discovered,
A small boy chanced to pass;
His faithful dog was by his side,
It stayed till the very last.

Poor Bernard's skull was badly crushed,
He was laying on his face;
Brains and blood were laying there,
To mark the fatal place.

Bernard lay there in a ditch,
Just like he had fell.
How the poor man suffered,
No mortal tongue can tell.

The poor man's death was caused by drink,
Thousands go that way;
Crime is reigning in our land,
We read it every day.

Poor Bernard's sleeping in the tomb,
His wife is left bereaved;
He has an Aunt to mourn for him,
No children did he leave.

The devil's getting in his work;
He's planning day by day.
He'll furnish drink to craze a man,
And steal his life away.

The people are so wicked,
They resist the Saviour's hand;
The world's become so full of sin,
I don't think it can stand.

Poor Bernard he was " loaded, "
And as helpless as a child;
His assassin is in prison,
A-waiting for a trial.

Young man, I pray take warning,
Shun the moonshine den,
The Commonwealth will get you,
And land you in the pen.