James Snooks

      I'm not begging forgiveness, nor pity, not me!
      But you ask how I ended this way
      My name is James Snooks; I've ducked and I've dived,
      Scratching a living each day.
      Once worked with the horses at the King's Arms nearby,
      So I know all these places round here,
      But I never expected to wind up my days
      On Boxmoor by these five chestnut trees.

      Some stuff had gone missing: my boss called me in,
      Asked me if I could explain.
      Things got out of hand; I shouted and cussed:
      Soon looking for work once again.
      I moved up to town, lodged at Mary-le-Bone;
      Got by as best as I could,
      But I always remembered John Stevens the boy
      Took the mail cross the moor, through the wood.

      And so one May morning I saddled the grey,
      Rode back to old Hempstead town,
      And I watched and I waited not far from this spot
      As the sun, oh so slowly, went down.
      "Stand and deliver!" I can still see his eyes
      As he gave me the mail, close to tears.
      Blow me down if that bag wasn't stuffed full with cash.
      By the time he was found, I was clear.

      In Southwark I sent a girl out for some cloth,
      Gave her a crisp fifty pounds.
      Well that caused quite a stir; there's a knock at my door
      And everything's come crashing down.
      The High Constable's my old boss from the Arms;
      As soon as I saw him I was bound
      That he'd show me no mercy:
      He'd have me in chains,
      Smile as he's sending me down.

      It's now March eleventh of eighteen-oh-two
      And the party is getting in swing.
      The man at The Swan, he's raking it in,
      But I don't hold a grudge against him.
      Who wants my gold watch? You can have it, you know
      If you promise you'll bury me nice.
      What? Will nobody speak? Well that tells me all:
      Goodbye, fare thee well, damn your eyes.