The wicked, wicked man.
He took my clothes, my shoes,
My money. My leather wallet
He found it funny. But he took it anyway,
He grabbed it all and then he ran.

I could've caught him if I could stand,
He took the ring right off my hand!
And my new sunglasses, he tore them off
And left me lying in the sand.

Ah that man, that wicked man.
Couldn't some kindness been shown by him?
If he had to rob, couldn't he be gentle,
Instead of smiling his wicked grin?

I didn't see just where he went.
You see, I couldn't quite move my head.
I would if I could, but dearest reader,
I assure you I am quite dead.