The poem
'There is not much that I can do, For I've no money that's quite my own!' Spoke up the pitying child-- A little boy with a violin At the station before the train came in,-- 'But I can play my fiddle to you, And a nice one 'tis, and good in tone!'
The man in the handcuffs smiled; The constable looked, and he smiled too, As the fiddle began to twang; And the man in the handcuffs suddenly sang With grimful glee: 'This life so free Is the thing for me!' And the constable smiled, and said no word, As if unconscious of what he heard; And so they went on till the train came in-- The convict, and boy with the violin.