McNab was a detective and the shrewdest of his race.
No rival wight possessed his skill in working up a case.
A crime that baffled the police to him was merely fun,
He often knew the criminal before the crime was done.
Whenever any personage so far forgot himself
And had such vulgar manners as to kill a man for pelf,
They always called McNab, the most sagacious of his breed,
To ascertain the gentleman who did the bloody deed.
So, when a man concocted a most clever plan to steal
By adding strychnine to a fellow-creature’s frugal meal,
They called McNab and said: “Go find this erring person, do;
He is a man of middle age, whose optics both are blue.”
McNab replied: “With such a clew to find him I’ll engage.
If he is, as you say, a blue-eyed man of middle age.
His azure orbs and middle age will be the damning facts
By which I’ll bring the gentleman to answer for his acts.
The parson of the parish was a man of most pronounced
Blue eyes and middle age; so on him our detective pounced.
“Ha, ha!” he cried, with proper pride, “the wretched creature scan!
Behold his eyes – his middle age!” But he was not the man.
Continued on p. 2