Snow White’s Arrest


The names Thursday – Fred Thursday

L A’s finest detective

he roams the street, fighting crime

can’t afford to be selective.


Called to a stakeout way down town

some broad called Snow White

was making powder, or so he thought

she had little guys working hard all night


He and Travis his sidekick

sat outside the house

watching, waiting silently

just like a little mouse.


At 10.00pm these little guys

came out , got into a Cadillac

off they went, so they followed close

each had carried a small light pack.


Pulled up outside a disused mine

Hey Ho someone shouted

as they all jumped out

marched off in one straight line

what were these guys about.


The cops waited patiently until dawn

when out they came at last

off they went back home again

driving pretty fast.


Get on the horn , backup needed

the knew the broad had lied

once inside we kick in the door

Police, no one move they cried.


Sat around the table

they all looked surprised

what the hell do you want Snowy shouted

OK lady this is a bust

so where’s the snow

we know you’ve touted.


Are you mad came the reply

from some guy called Dopey Red

we’ve been down the mine all night

now were of to bed.


A brothel as well, whatever next

Thursday’s face a picture to see

thought he’d cracked his biggest case

known all around the world he’d be.


He made a grab for Snow White’s arm

not a very wise move from he

Happy’s shovel connected

with Thursday’s head

stars he began to see.


Pandemonium exuded, as Travis observed

a rottweiler suddenly appeared

its teeth attached to Thursday’s groin

a scream was soon to be heard.


Snow White now crying, made for the door

help she cried in vain

now loaded into a black and white

would she be seen again.


At the precinct, Lieutenant Frisk

said  I can’t believe what I hear

this is Mrs White, who runs the shelter

she’s just a lovely old dear


All was well that ends well

the moral plainly clear

never jump to conclusions

and make Thursdays mistake I fear

  The old Lamplighter 


The old lamplighter walks the streets

binging light to all the town

many a night he can be seen

walking up and down.


Down Bow Street and the like

he plies his soulful trade

lighting all the lamps he can

he’s so reliable and staid.


Bow Street Runners everywhere

the Ripper’s on the loose again

another scream, another shout

as the blood runs down the drain.


All are running past him

searching everywhere

he just goes on about his work

with nary a simple care.


Many Toffs do tip their hats

some even say hello

but mainly most just hurry past

they must have somewhere to go.


The homeless sit in doorways

ladies of the night are on the game

Pickpockets are rife, thieves are about

yes, London’s not so tame.


Not the place to be at all

especially for the rich

though they wander down the streets at night

they risk ending up in the ditch.


With only his overcoat to keep him warm

his boots to help his feet

in his funny three cornered hat

he still looks kind of neat.


He trudges round old London town

until the dead of night

lighting all the lamps he finds

keeping the town alight.


In the Dockland place’s he’s not required

it wouldn’t suit their needs

with the smuggling going on

the lamplight could never suit their deeds.


He ambles home at two am

his nights work all well done

London now is all ablaze

with light until the sun.


The Yellow butterfly


While out walking quietly today

a brand new friend came by my way

with fluttering wings he flew by

was brightly coloured, I wondered why.


God made him so I stopped to say

to a neighbour on the way

he saw him too, and was aghast

his colouring was a beauty blast.


About two inches wide was he

from each wingtip that we could see

flittering around amongst the bushes

darting in and out of bulrushes.


Walking down to the river bank

he followed me as if to thank

me for my interest in himself

he looked a creature full of health.


Wings that shone and glistened well

in all he did look rather swell

little body that looked so small

to carry his wings, antenna and all.


A miracle of natures making

too fast, he moves for picture taking

have to wait until he settles

which he does on stinging nettles.


I move closer, with my camera at the ready

try to keep my hands very steady

he looks at me as if to say

try again another day.


As off, he flies to pastures new

he disappears to spoil the view

I wonder where he went this time

he really did look so sublime.