The poem
Selecting in the dining-room The silver of his choice, The burglar heard from chamber gloom A female voice. As cold and bitter as a toad, She spat a nasty name, So even as his swag he stowed He blushed for shame.
'You dirty dog!' he heard her say, 'I sniff your whisky stench. I bet you've gambled half your pay, Or blown it on a wench. Begone from here, you rakehell boor! You shame the human race. What wife would pillow-share with your Disgusting face!'
A tear the tender burglar shed, Then indignation rose, And swiftly striding to her bed He said: 'I'm none of those. I am a connoisseur in crime And felonies I plan . . . But otherwise, believe me I'm A GENTLEMAN.'