Wonderful people our police,
Won’t hear a word against ’em,
They maintains order, keeps the peace,
Can’t think why people hates ’em.
They’re not the way they’re shown
By third rate actors on the telly;
Don’t take my word,
Go ask that bird,
What’s ’er name? Mrs Kelly!
It’s most unfair to call them pigs
Cos they work for the state,
We need them, and the beeks and wigs
To keep Great Britain great.
Think of the murderers and crooks
Our lads protect us from,
Yet still they get suspicious looks
As though they don’t belong.
They ride the streets in panda cars
Protecting us from crime,
And if you’ve not a watch,
Just ask a copper for the time.
Directing traffic too, they do,
And major accidents
Are in charge
Of the friendly sarge,
And other incidents.
Like marches where you get the mobs
Of long-haired left wing students,
And football crowds of skinhead yobs:
Disgusting little rodents.
And what do coppers act like when
They’re on the picket line?
They smile and small-talk with the men,
And tread the thin blue line.
They’re always helpful, never rude,
They’re tactful and discreet,
To stay in such a jovial mood
Is really no mean feat.
Especially when types like you
Portray them all as thugs,
And snoopers, well, what if they do
Use truncheons, guns and bugs?
They’re not the way you say they are
They don’t abuse their powers;
I can’t conceive
You don't believe
Me, why not, Mrs Towers?
Wonderful people our police,
Won’t hear a word against ’em,
They maintains order, keeps the peace,
Can’t think why people hates ’em.
But don’t just take my word for it,
Ask Liddle and Jimmy’s crew,
And Leon Brit’,
And Gerry Fitt,
Young Stephen Waldorf too!
[The above was first published in the 1987 anthology We’re Coming For Your Telecom Shares]
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