Angelo, Benjamin, Michael and Paul Threw down their shovels at Liberty's call; their day was too long and their pay was too small, The job, as it stood, didn't suit them at all, So they shook it. Ichabod, deaf to the threats of the mob, Doggedly said that he needed the job, And he took it. Angelo, Benjamin, Michael and Paul Called him a villain, a slave and a thrall; Then, as he wouldn't quit work as they willed him, They killed him. The Coroner, sitting on Ichabod's case, Learned that the victim was everything base, A blackguard, a ruffian, a shame and disgrace, A traitor for daring to work in the place Of Angelo, Benjamin, Michael and Paul, Those heroes who stood with their backs to the wall. So what in the world could the Coroner do But find, by the witness of good men and true, That Angelo, Benjamin, Michael and Paul Had nothing whatever to do with the brawl; That Ichabod, friendless, despised and alone, had come to his death (which we needn't bemoan), At the hands of a person, or persons, unknown; and what was the difference? The fault was his own. Nobody minded what Icabod said; He was dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A NEW HYMN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HENRY MOORE'S STATUE AT LINCOLN CENTER by KAREN SWENSON |