The rhyming gang of old London town,
Those vicious thugs of infamous renown,
With split infinitives and dreadful grammar,
They scared people witless in a terrible manner.
There was Sam the snot, and Nobby the nail,
And posh Nigel and Henry the snail,
There was strange Rupert and baby face Pete,
And fancy boy Lionel made the line up complete.
Their calling card it was always the same,
They’d rush into a bank and then boldly exclaim,
“Hand over your cash, hand over your money,
Don’t try anything silly, don’t try anything funny”.
“We’re armed and were dangerous and if you have sense,
You’ll just give in to our poetic licence,
We’ve got rhyming couplets and we’re not afraid to use ‘em,
We’ll let them all off and create linguistic confusion”
“We’ve got passive verbs too” said Henry the snail,
“And poetry so bad, it’s beyond the pale”,
“We ain’t going to show you no mercy were not,
So give us your cash”, said Sam the snot.
When people heard this they would hand over their cash,
They couldn’t bear to hear English get battered and smashed
“Please rhyming gang, please do not say any more,
Stop killing our language”, they all did implore.
“Right” says strange Rupert “we’ll leave you alone,
But don’t try to follow, just go back straight home”,
“That’s right” says Pete (he’s the baby face one),
And then they made off when their thieving was done.
But things went bad for that villainous crew,
When they raided a bank in old Waterloo,
They rushed in as normal all confidently,
And started to recite some bad poetry.
But what happened next caused the end of their spree,
As fancy boy Lionel stepped forward you see,
He raised up his voice and said “hand over your cash,
And any other valuables that you may about your person or in your possession.”
“Oh gawd” said posh Nigel, “just what have you done,
You mucked up the rhyme and now we’re undone,
Our reputation for terror and fear,
Was all based on our unfailing rhyming ear”.
But the magic was gone, they were exposed as a fraud,
They tried to escape and hide safely abroad,
But the fuzz caught them all when they boarded a plane,
With books of bad poetry all bound for Spain.
Before the old Bailey they all did appear,
And stood while the charges were read loud and clear,
“You villains have vandalised our mother tongue,
How do you plead about what you have done”.
“Not guilty” your ‘onour they all did exclaim,
“Please give us a moment to briefly explain,
We ‘aint done nothing wrong we didn’t do no crime
We woz just expressing ourselves in verses that rhyme.”
Well the jury took just two minutes to make up their mind,
And send them all down for their terrible crime,
“Lock them all up and throw out that key”,
They shouted with anger and great enmity.
“For mashing our language and creating poor verse,
They should be exiled or beaten or worse”.
So they were then sentenced, to ten years or more,
To be spent in that prison on barren Dartmoor.
And there to this day they remain locked up tight,
So the great British public can all sleep at night,
Knowing that gang for their bold rhyming crimes,
Are locked away safe and are doing their time.
(9th January 2010)
