Thursday, 14 November 2013

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

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