The Slant - Augie March

Pity the boy in front of me

He was only 16

Lifted up my axe then down

Split his head like a cord of wood

Not for me the huon pine

Not for me the ankle iron

A’resting in the rope’ll do me fine

So they sent me down to Bellerive

Strung me up to my relief

I was just a petty thief

Of no account, no import

Send my love to my sister

In the Female Factory

Remind her of the day

When we drank wine

May a slant of winter light

Break upon my stone before the night

Ushers in the chill

I have no sight, I have no sight

But did they pave the streets of Hobart town?

Lop the old wood forests down?

For the press of King and Crown

For honey?

Milk and honey?

My arse