Old May was a local terror

And the emergency services knew it

Quite sure if they were called to her

They'd more than likely rue it.

 

A woman of uncertain age

And well beyond "spring chicken"

She'd long since left behind that stage

When arteries start to thicken.

 

Armed with drink and a walking stick

She seemed a nice old dear

But woe betide the ill-prepared

If they came anywhere near.

 

Nicked one chilly Christmas Eve

For being "D and D"

She sagged against the charge room wall

A sobering sight to see.

 

Her few possessions on his desk -

The sergeant started checking,

His best attempts to note them down

Old May seemed set on wrecking.

 

At last she stopped and closed her eyes

And let the sergeant count up

The few things that she had with her

Took no time at all to mount up.

 

Less than a pound the sergeant found,

A hanky and a locket;

Pausing - with a quick look round,

He reached into his pocket.

 

A fiver joined the scattered pence

And he sat back in his chair,

As suddenly Old May gained some sense

And fixed him with a glare.

 

Swaying forward from her spot

To make sure he could hear her

She asked him "How much have I got?"

As he avoided getting near her.

 

The sergeant said - "About six pounds -

It's not a lot to share, love."

And Old May's anger knew no bounds,

"You're all such CROOKS, I swear, love!"

 

The sergeant blinked in disbelief

As Old May leaned too near -

"I had MORE than that, you effing thief..

When I was brought in here!"