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Monday, 23 September 2019

Burglar


Burglar

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 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, nor have a bag marked “swag” to help in his task.
He wasn’t alarmed to see me; in fact, he didn’t even frown,
Just 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 could guess 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.
The hours were anti-social, always having to come in the night,
And he wasn’t getting much sleep, never seeing much of the daylight.

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 near 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 2019

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