Sordid
Member
Of
The
Gangster
Rich,
Whose
Life
Was
Lived
In
A
Foul
Ditch,
Is
Dead,
But
It
Ought
To
Be
Said:
The
Ill
Bred
Cretin
Was
Supposedly
Doing
Well,
Locked
In
A
Cell
Within
A
Hundred
Cells
On
Suicide
Watch,
But
Somebody
Slipped
The
Latch,
A
Hand
Reached
In
And
Silenced
Him,
A
Thousand
Guilty
Names
In
His
Head
Never
To
Be
Known,
Locked
Now
In
Bone.