The Policeman

He's a burley big policeman

With a hard protruding jaw

And he scowls at every person

Who has run afoul the law.

He's a bogey-man for children

When parental rule is dead

And a kid won't eat his spinach

Or go scudding off to bed.

Yet I've seen him at the corner

In the old accustomed place

With a look of anxious worry

Written all across his face

As he took some youngerster by the hand

To hold him in retreat

While the roaring, reckless traffic

Went away along the street.

He's a sour-puss policeman

He's a testy traffic cop.

And he wags an ugly finger

When he brings you to a stop.

Then you're missing an appointment

While you have to sit and heed

His exhaustive sermonizing

On the town's worst traffic need.

Yet I've seen that same policeman

Rush into the jaws of death

As two hapless cars colliding

Missed disaster by a breath.

And he wanted no ovation

Nor resounding public blurb

As he helped some limping lady

Safely back upon the curb.

I have heard them call him "flat foot"

And deride his flaunted star,

When our friend, the town policeman,

Passed the place where loafers are.

I have heard them say he's lazy,

That he raids the peanut sack --

All these jibes and others like them,

When the law has turned its back.

Yet our friend, the town policeman,

As he goes along the beat,

Peering in the nooks and crannies

Oftentimes with weary feet,

Is the enemy of vermin

That go skulking through the night,

And buffer to the evil

That would trample on your right.