I much admire, I must admit,
 The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
 For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
 You wouldn't ask to tea.

I do not mean a burglar cove
 Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
 As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
 With him who robs a Bank.

Who seemeth not to care a whoop
 For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as 'soup,'
 And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
 I doff my bowler hat.

I think he is the kind of stuff
 To be a mighty man
In battlefield,--aye, brave enough
 The Cross Victorian
To win and rise to high command,
 A hero in the land.

What General with all his swank
Has guts enough to rob a Bank!