I know I’ve been flogging a deceased hoss
And some may think what I write is dross
But once again I must opine
Though my words be not sublime
There is no suspense and no mirth
Of police work there is a dearth
The stories smell, the artworks bad
The strip has become really sad
A little logic, a little thought
Is not too lofty a goal to be sought
It’s not that we ask for too much
Just a straw that we can clutch
As we sputter in the foaming brine
Oh, wouldn’t that be just fine
But no-one hears our sad refrain
As the strip swirls down the drain.
I know I’ve been flogging a deceased hoss And some may think what I write is dross But once again I must opine Though my words be not sublime There is no suspense and no mirth Of police work there is a dearth The stories smell, the artworks bad The strip has become really sad A little logic, a little thought Is not too lofty a goal to be sought It’s not that we ask for too much Just a straw that we can clutch As we sputter in the foaming brine Oh, wouldn’t that be just fine But no-one hears our sad refrain As the strip swirls down the drain.
Thank you margueritem.