They're the scourge of those who show moral abandonment
And yet they're surly, terse, and intransigent
Curmudgeonly, imperious, occasionally rash
And often quite smug or a little bit brash
It's true that they work to uphold our laws
But it seems they're not shy of a couple of flaws
While we don't think it right these fine folk to be shamed
There's a small attribute for which they've been famed
Of course this does not apply right across the board
But stereotypes do reflect a truth that is broad
And forgive us for subtlety akin to a brick
But they tend to present as uncommonly thick
Call them the rozzers, the crushers, or cops
Blue bottles, bobbies, the pigs, or the slops
Call them Old Bill, or the fuzz, or the screws
Just don't call them bright when they're looking for clues

Drat the Peelers!
Drat the Peelers!

As public servants they should act more respectfully
To ladies or gents who are needing them urgently
Manners cost nothing when asked for assistance
But many I've met engaged with impertinence
“Good sir, I beg you, detain this dipper!”
“I can't do that, sir, he's barely a nipper!”
"But look at this flimp, he's got sparks in his pocket!
And what's more he tried to take my good lady's locket!"
The little chavy prig started crying on cue
His kidsman had taught him right well what to do
Her Majesty's officer, clearly a mug
Turned to the rascal and gave him a hug
“What's wrong, little boy?” the rozzer inquired
“He just tried to touch me”, responded the liar
The copper then put me in ruffles at once
And nibbed me right falsely for being a nonce

Drat the Peelers!
Drat the Peelers!
Drat the Peelers!
Drat the Peelers!

Highway signs announce “Police: Slow”
It's good that they admit it but it really doesn't go
To forge real faith in the keepers of the peace
When the “Duh!” you hear is the sound of the police

If it's true they consider Mr Holmes their model
Then how is it they seem so perennially befuddled
Confused, or bewildered by the slightest complexities
And always needing others to assist with enquiries?
Mere simple offences or trivial threats
They're slow to react, but so quick to forget
Their purpose, a fact that's beyond elementary
Is to fulfil the needs and the whims of the gentry
To apprehend scallywags, hooligans, ruffians
On our accusation without pause or question
"His knuckles are dragging, and his eyes are shifty
Regard his demeanour! He's obviously guilty!"
And yet they dismiss us with withering gaze
Or turns of particularly sarcastic phrase
There's no need to be patronising, pompous, or snooty
“Constable, arrest him! I say, do your duty!”


Of course we'd like to express our sincere respect
And admiration for Her Majesty's police service
They do an unenviable job in often difficult circumstances
And it's probably not helped by the likes of us making
Frequent satirical jibes at their expense
We don't doubt that they are, on the whole
Perfectly capable and adroit ladies and gentlemen
And that the simple-minded among them to whom we refer
Are merely the four or five hundred individuals in every force
Who are rather letting the side down

Written by Intermittent Explosive Disorder
© Copyright 2017