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!"