SELECTED POETRY. SETH BAKER.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 38, 23 February 1884, Page 3

SELECTED POETRY. SETH BAKER.

Come, stow it, I say, for it's waste of breath ; I know as you means it well ; But the eye sees clear when it's filmed with death, And the thing as I sees is Hell ! I know of the Blood for sinners shed, And the pardon full and free. And the Grace that waslics snow-white the red, But there ain't no Grace for me ! Stop ! let me speak, for the time is short ; You wasn't ietcned here to spout. I'm none of your Hallelujah sort ; White chokers and me falls out. But you ain't, not you, of the smug-faced crew, All Glory and white of eye ; I trust you, parson ; by snakes, I do ! So listen before I die. I'm bound, I am, for the brimstone lake, With its horrible reck and stench ; For the worms as writhe and the flames as quale, And the thirst you can noways squench. I don't make out as I likes the trip. But I tell you all the same, I means to start with a good stiff lip, And a step as shows I'm game. I'm game to the bottom— curse the cough ! It saws me through and through— And if ever my pals take on to scoff, And say as 1 sent for you— I fetched you away to jabber and pray, And show me tho road to die— "He was game to the bottom," just you say, And choke the fools with their lie. I'm quiet— all right— l am, I swear ; No, I won't let out no more. Just give me a pull of the brandy thereIs there nobody nigh the door? Are you sure as there's never a listening sneak ? Then give me your hand to ketch ; Bend down while 1 speak, for I'm horful weak, And the words is hard to fetch. Here's a newspaper under my head, you see, What tells, with a heap of lies, Seth Baker was tried in 'sixty-three, At the Worcester County 'Size. Don't spout it loud, for it's waste of breath ; I can give you the pith, I can ; The sentence of death was passed on Seth For knifing a pollis-man ! You remember it ? No? Why the world went mad ! 'Twasa nine-days-wonder case ; They talked of the lad, and the ways he had, His pluck and his handsome face. It wasn't right proved how the blood was spilt, And they'd easy have puiled him through ; But the stoopid young fool confessed his guilt— So what could the lawyer do ? Petitions were signed— for the chap was youngImploring the Queen for grace ; But the end of it all was, Seth was hung, In spite of his youth and face. And I stood there, in the struggling square, And stared in the prisoner's eye ; I saw them cover his face, so fair, And fasten his hempen tie ! Yes, I stood there, in the death-still square, And met Seth Baker's eye ; I heard him mutter a tag of pay'r : I saw— l saw him die ! He took the drop with a rare good pluck, With never a shake nor whine ;— And the knife in the peeler's heart that struck, It was not Seth's, but mine : t happened along of a wench, you seeYoung Seth was a-courtin' Kate ; But— so rum is a she— she took to me. And jilted my handsome mate. So wo got spliced,— but I used her bad ; If T/as nothin' but drink and row ; But he's getting paid back for the time she had, A-. inging in Glory now ! Well, Seth was a chap as was always softHe reggerler drove me wild ; For he'd roller and say to me, oft and oft, " Be kind to your wife and child ! " But he gave it up, and hel et me go— No preachin' would keep me straignt ; And he got to know as it meant a blow, And a worser time for Kate ! I was always in drink ; I was deep in debt ; I was sacked from my job of work ; And then I got in with a poachin' set, As nothin' at all would shirk. We'd many a spree, my pals and me, And many a right good bag ; And we packed the game to town, you sco And fuddled away the swag. We was out one night— l was setting a snare ; Afore you could reckon three, A peeler was out of some cursed lair, And grapplin' along of mo. He called for the rest— l was devilish pressed, I didn't know what to do ; I draws my knife, and the peeler's breast I drives it through and through. He staggered and fell with a horful yell ; I hadn't no sense nor breath ; And the ruck tears on, like the fiends of hell, In a game of lite and death. I staggered and tript ; I was well-nigh gript ; When out. of the fir-trees dim, A bloke crep' soft, and behind me slipt, And the peelers makes for him. I couldn't tell how— and I can't tell now— Seth came in the nick of time ; Unless he was there on tho scent of a row, To resker his pal from crime. He touches my arm, and he says, says he, As he points to the belt of fir, " Crawl in on your knee— no matter for me It's all for the sake of Her.' I've told it you, parson, straight and fair, With devil a slur or lie ; And T stood there, in the death-still square, And saw Seth Baker die ! I know of the Blood for sinners shed, And the pardon full and free ; But the Grace that washes snow-white the red, It isn't no go for me ! A lifer in Hell is the sentence spoke On a soul so mean and grim * * • Yet tell us the tale of that dying bloke, And Christ as went bail for him • " • Just mutter a prayer • ■ * I know it well, This here is the grip of death • ' • It ain't as I want to beg off Hell ! I'm sorry I dono it ' • * Seth !

Frederick Langbridge.