• Author: B-8361
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 6
• Page Number:
• Date: 3 14 1917
• Tags:
• poetry
• gossip
• prison

ConditionsConditions, I wrote It and say that it's true And all of you knockers I mean it for you,' You read it and know it raised a big roar And now every knocker at "Curley" is sore.It's Curley's a knocker and it's Curley's a rat.I get this hot shot; fresh off the bat.The boob who fed children on a dollar anda halfAdmitted today he's living off graftAnother wise Alec, who thinks he can fight made remarks about food till I showed himthe light.Now listen you knockers I'll call your bum bluffWe'll go to the Warden, say we don't get enough.Compare your condition, both here and at homeI'll bet you were lucky if e're got a bone.These swell guys in here, lived with black girls outside.With uplifted nose, their disgrace to hide, pretend they are highbrows, their hairsure grows thinStop knocking- old top, it's a black, grievous sin.Now boys, pay attention, I'm not here to knockBut to do my "bit" here, or wher'er I may lock,Your condition is better than many outside Who have large, hungry families, and noway to provide.Be game, do your "bit," go out and make good You will then earn some money, and pay for good food.It's Curley who's talking, and who bears all the blame,Of writing conditions, and thinking the same,My opinion is written, I speak as I see; Conditions are good, in the old E. S. P.- B 8361.