Crime Is Merely A Disease Poem by George Ade

The criminal of other days
Was tortured in outlandish ways;
Upon the rack they'd break his back
Or at the stake they'd burn him.
Sometimes they'd strap him to a wheel
And stretch him till he'd loudly squeal;
Nor heed his pitiful appeal,
As on the spikes they'd turn him.
But crime is merely a disease;
Each scientific mind agrees;
We're kind to all offenders in our day;
For the burglar who would kill us
Has been stung by a bacillus,
So we dose him up and send him on his way.

To-day if you commit a crime,
You have a most delicious time;
A wagon blue will carry you
To a large stone institution.
The clerk assigns you to a suite,
With chiffonier and window seat,
An iron bedstead, trim and neat
And a sign: ' No persecution.'
For crime is merely a disease;
Our jail officials strive to please;
They humbly come and ask you, ' Did you ring ? '
Humanitarian methods sweet
Have made each pen a glad retreat
And Newport's no more pleasant than Sing Sing.

Within our jails is often met
The most exclusive social set:
The bank cashier, a financier,
Who has a way that's taking;
The man whose auto speed was high,
The one whose alimony's shy,
And college lads, who often try
Their hands at window breaking.
For crime is merely a disease,
Or else such lovely folks as these
Would never be connected with a crime.
It's getting to be quite a fad
To pay a fine for being bad ;
It's no disgrace to serve a little time.

If you have tried in vain to know
The leaders of the social show,
To the county jail you straightway go,
On a charge of kleptomania.
Attractive ladies bring to you
Fresh roses every day or two;
They hold your hand if you feel blue,
And there's nothing said to pain you.
For crime is merely a disease
And so the woman's club decrees
That jailbirds must be coddled and caressed.
The bold and wicked hold-up men
Get chummy with the upper ten,
The convict has become an honored guest.