Habitual Criminal Poem by Richard Jarboe

I stole a purse; then I ran away,
It wasn't my first; I did it daily.
I returned to prison, to a cell I knew well,
The same stupid reason: Habitual criminal.

When I broke out I returned to my sweetheart,
She was good enough to take me in,
I didn't like her new found religion,
'cause I was still living in sin.

I'd been run down by the system,
Run down by the law,
Ground down like corn,
By the mill at City Hall.


I tried to go straight; it didn't work out,
A soul can disappear in a parking lot,
One false move; next thing you know,
Somebody's going to get shot.

I like to gamble,
I like hanging at the track,
I don't like parole,
They don'tgive you no slack.

So I'm saying goodbye,
I stole me a car and I'm leaving today,
If you see my mother, tell her I'm fine,
If you see my brother, tell him I'm doing time.