A Thief Repents

And so it ended, my fine old career,
A bandit’s life is rarely a long one,
Hung up on a gibbet for all to leer,
My pleasures of booty had truly gone.
My friend on the left, some fruitcake between,
The would-be King now wearing crown of thorn,
They mock him most, priests stirring up the scene,
Even my mate finds strength to spit out scorn.
At last I cough up pity; then I see,
Those eyes seeing everything, then I know,
Who this is, who gives out his strange decree,
Sending me where I did not mean to go.
And so, instead of those who should have known,
The robber Dismas stands near heaven’s throne.

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