A hungry feeling

carne o’er me stealing

all the mice were squealing

in my prison cell.

And the old triangle

went jingle-jangle

all along the banks

of the Royal Canal.

To begin the morning

the warden’s bawling

«Get out of bed

and clean up your cell».

Oh! The screw was peeping

and the lag was sleeping

as I lay there weeping

tor my girl Sai.

Up in the female prison

there are seventy-five women,

and among them

now I wish I did dwell.