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THE BOSTON BURGLAR
I WAS barn in Boston City, a city you all know well, Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll
tell, Brought up by honest parents and raised most tenderly, Till I became a roving man at the age of twenty-three.
My character was taken then, and I was sent to jail. My friends they found it was in vain to get me out
on bail. The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down, The judge he passed me sentence and I was sent to
You ought to have seen my aged father a-pleading at the bar,
Also my dear old mother a-tearing of her hair,
Tearing of her old gray locks as the tears came rolling down,
Saying, " Son, dear son, what have you done, that you are sent to Charleston town? "
They put me aboard an eastbound train one cold December day,