Raiders of the Lost Nark

The early morning foray
sadly not a quiet affair
Blatantly outnumbered
clearly lacking savoir faire

Entering in single file
No room for two together

carelessly not wiping feet

sodden trails of dirty weather 

Frantic panic screaming out
"what on earth is going on?"

icy calls demanded 'freeze'

common decency foregone

Just then a naked lady hurled

a porcelain commode

With a scream of acid overtones

"You have no right in my abode"

"Now just hold on there Misses"

Said the officer in charge

"Our 'intelligence' is to apprehend

Wicked criminals at large"

"Intelligence? I have my doubts

There's not a soul in here but me

Racketeers of fame are known

To live at number Thirty three"

"Blindly rambling roughshod
Is to me beyond abhorrent

Reduced my door to smithereens

Led up my garden by your warrant?"

The Sergeant glanced the paperwork

Seeing clearly 'Thirty Three'

This door confusion worried him

As he scuttled on his knee

There among the broken planks
He looked with horror on the floor

No matter how he angled it

A number mumbled 'Forty Four'

Salty droplets from his hard hat
Stung his eyes and made him blink

At 'Thirty Three' they'd gone to ground
Now to face sad music and the stink