Goose Desk
The roots of criminal intent
Are found in libraries and pubs
Where sides are formed and pints are quaffed
Unlike what goes on in my loft -
Where tigers tumble with their cubs
No wonder children grow up bent!
They roam the streets, with fists unfurled,
To pick on any passerby
Who may bear witness to their folly
And set about them with a brolly
And with a soulful banshee cry
Reject the chants they hurled
The efforts of the weary Met
To stop and search each passer-by
Confound defending any realm
And even noble St. Anselm
With thumbs alike inside a pie
Can still emerge a little wet
To say just this would understate
The roots of criminal intent
Which, as we know, run deeper far
Inflicting pain and leaving scar
Until, ignored by Government,
We say we won't participate
Contributors: | dan, Apsley, dkb, Beefy, fester. |
Poem finished: | 20th March 2002. |