The dirty dark blue overcoat

Had long since seen a better day

A hard life, over sixty years

Has him set in his own way

Guardian of suburban parkland

Where all the Children play

 

The eyesight of a shithouse rat

From the days when he wore khaki

Remembers Dunkirk and it’s beach

Queuing up still makes him narky

The Kids know not to mess with him

Because He’s the Local Parkie

 

“Don’t throw that litter on the grass”

“Pick up those empty cans”

“Stop that running on the path”

“No ball games football fans!”

On the Council’s parkland battlefield

He’s the General of their plans

 

Don’t answer back and watch your lip

Don’t mouth off or be sarky

He won’t take your shenanigans

Or any old malarkey

Remember not to mess with him

For He’s the Local Parkie

 

(Dedicated to the all bastions of society formerly known as Local Parkland Operatives and in the days when children were allowed to play outside.... THE PARKIE..... and don't run if you have done nothing wrong).

 

(c) Daniel Dwyran