The Policemen’s Ball

 

Something was happing the air was a buzz,

Who’s having a party it can’t be the fuzz,

But next to the theatre a marque is erect,

And everyone’s talking a strange dialect,

Into their walkie talkies this sea of blue command,

Caps on their heads, respect on demand.

As I walk by, my ventolin stuffed down the side of my knickers,

A thought occurs that they may send in the sniffers,

‘Cos the bulge of my vent looks just like a gun,

Could I be mistaken for a villain on the run?

Once the thought has entered my brain,

It refuses to leave it, driving me insane,

My face is a picture of guilt mirrored in bright red,

As I slink past the pigs I’m on the ready to spread.

Phew, I can relax I am now over the road,

I am innocent again, my pulse has slowed,

I salute these officers, these holders of the peace,

As guilty or innocent no one starts with the police.

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