I’ve a scheme with which to fleece

All Malawian police –

My invention’s a surprise: a

Portable gas-analyser!


When there is a nasty sound

Coppers there can gather round,

Quickly sampling the air

For whatever gas is there.


Then, all suspects in the area

Will be tested on posterior,

And, when there’s a matching stink,

Off that person goes to clink!


Otherwise the cops will find

That detection is a bind –

When resounds a raspberry,

All will say, ‘It wasn’t me!’


And, that crime, it is a fact,

‘S hard to catch while in the act;

One alone, lets rip a popper,

Could maintain it was the copper!


And, let off within a crowd,

Even though it might be loud,

Could have come from anywhere –

If there are no snitches there.


With my tester brought in play,

Surely it’s the only way

To detect and bring to book

Every flatulent-type crook!


But the gas will go away

When there comes the happy day

That they are no longer free,

And have banned democracy?


© Colonialist February 2011 (Letterdash/Wordpress)

About colonialist

Active septic geranium who plays with words writing fantasy novels and professionally editing, with notes writing classical music, and with riding a mountain bike, horses and dinghies. Recently Indie Publishing has been added to this list.
This entry was posted in Colonialist, verse, writing, music composition, fantasy, Africa, journal., Really Awful Rhyme and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Charming, Colonialist, simply charming…and effective too, I would conjecture….


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