His Other Side
by Raymond Holt
An ex Cranleigh village Bobby
He was the local villain,
Young without much brain.
A little bit too punchy,
A little bit insane.
Was always summoned to the court,
Believing things were free.
And when asked why he stole it,
Would always say, “Who me?”
But on a coal black winter’s night,
When birds were all a flutter.
A car knocked down the vicar’s cat,
She landed in the gutter.
I shone my torch upon poor Meg,
The villain cried, “Don’t fret!”
He cradled her into his arms
And took her to the vet.
The vicar prayed and Meg was saved,
The villain was a king.
It’s strange, the kindness hiding there,
If we simply look within.
And if there is a heaven,
And I’ll know, when I’m finally dead.
Do you think I’ll meet him again,
Along with the vicar and Meg?
LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER
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