Paris, after the Great War,
Was none too keen on the criminal element.
They commandeered a ship
With a German registry
And welded some prison boxes
To house the worst of society
Who were stowed away for the harsh life
In French Guiana.
The animals were placed in cages
Smiling the whole three weeks.
The guards, fifty strong,
Thought something must be wrong
With the wits of these awful men
Being sent to the island gallows.
What the incarcerators failed to understand
Was that of human spirit,
Where a life in the harsh tropical air
Might just be the freedom they needed
To help them manage a judge’s sentence.
“They have no idea,” thought a guard.
Only 2,000 would live to tell
The horrors of living as island prisoners.
Prisons don’t change
Based on location…