But no! one lingered on the street
The "guardian of the peace" to meet,
A hatless man who had been struck
Till naught was left of him but pluck.
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
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That this is all remains of thee?
"Ho! who art thou?" exclaims the cop.
"Bismillah! hold, proud moslem, stop!
Don't look at me like that, young man."
He said, - then sank beneath the scan,
As though the Senior's eye shot death,
And seemed to say beneath the breath,
"A peeler is a wicked thing."
But list! oh, list! the man would sing.
"Cop of Boston, ere we sever,
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The Yale and Second Regiment Games.
