A Thief In The Night
Awoken
by a bump in the night,
A
noise I wish could have resisted.
I
didn’t want to investigate,
But
the wife – she’d insisted.
So,
armed with what first came to my hand,
I
crept quietly down the stair,
Clutching
a pair of her curling tongs,
To
discover who might be there.
There
was a light on in the kitchen -
So
- there was the criminal joker!
I
shouted out - just to warn him:
“Hey!
I’m armed with a big poker!”
I
heard a noise, so I thought perhaps he’d gone,
And
dashed bravely in, to chase off the thief,
But
the sight that met my eyes,
Was
one I could hardly believe.
The
youth, he was just sitting there,
In
the chair, as calm as can be,
Helping
himself to some cornflakes,
With
cold milk, as far as I could see.
He
didn’t look so threatening,
Slumped
at the table, almost dejected,
He
didn’t have the traditional look,
Of
the cat-burglar I’d expected.
He
wasn’t armed and dangerous,
And
there was no sign of a mask,
He
didn’t wear a long stripey jumper,
No
bag marked “swag” to help in his task.
He
wasn’t alarmed to see me,
In
fact, he didn’t even frown,
But
said: “Calm yourself, Grandad! -
And
put those curling-tongs down!”
I
said: “A man’s home is his castle –
About
that, you need to be clear,
You
shouldn’t be eating my cornflakes,
In
fact, you shouldn’t even be here!”
He
said that as I was here now,
He
knew how I must feel.
He
didn’t have the heart to burgle,
And
from me he’d better not steal.
House-breaking’s
not all it’s cracked up to be,
The
risks hardly make it worth-while,
Biting
dogs and alarm systems
Were
really cramping his style.
By
the time I’d heard his story,
I
could see things from his side,
And
felt so very sorry for him,
Well,
I very nearly cried.
I
saw him out through the door,
Once
he’d had a good rest,
I
hoped he’d do well in the future,
And
then I wished him all the best.
I
locked the door behind him,
Reflecting
on what we’d both said,
And
knowing that crime doesn’t pay,
Made
my way, happily, back to bed.
It
was next morning that I discovered,
My
wallet and keys he’d lifted,
He’d
been back again in the night,
And
all my valuables shifted.
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment