I once remember as a lad --While visiting a pen,I saw a man grown old with age --Doing life to pay his sin.
His beard was long, his eyes were dim --His life had left its scar.
Hed done the most of his lifetime --looking through the bars.
I ask him of the crime he did --For which he had to pay.
His answer was a silent stare --No words had he to say.
Then I asked the prison guard --About this lifeless wretch.
I found hed killed a fellow man,Life sentence was his stretch.
Ive often wondered what its like --To have a door locked in your face,Knowing freedom neer again.
How can life be lived --Within four dirty, stinking walls.
And how the mind can stay alive --Without a violent squall.
It always seems a mystery --When freedom is so dear.
To take a chance on losing it --With prison life to fear.
Now since that time, in my mid-teen,When of this case I sight,Im thankful to my parents, who --Demanded I do right.
And of the freedom that I have --I cherish far too much.
To take a chance on losing it --With penalties being such;That prison life behind those walls,Were never meant for me --My future holds much better things,My freedom is dear, you see.(Written after a school trip in 1937)
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