"I started writing poems at the age of 69 years when
I was caught by a camera travelling at 35 miles per
hour and I had to pay the financial penalty and, of
course, had the three points put on my licence.
That was my first and only 'conviction' and I have
to say I was somewhat miffed"
THE HIGHWAYMEN OF CLEVELAND
On my motor bike I
started out in 1952,
Now half-a-century's almost passed and I am feeling
blue.
I've reached the age of 69 with no blot on my name,
Now I've just received a fine, I hang my head in
shame.
Five miles too fast was
all it took to make the camera flash,
Then they played it by the book and demanded all my
cash.
Perhaps I've been a little naughty, it was an
oversight,
But wanting money - pounds times forty - means I
can't sleep at night.
I'm not really one to
shout, I do have bread well buttered,
But if for months I can't eat out, I'll be well and
truly gutted.
I know how much they need my cheque, I've also heard
a rumour,
But really they've made me a wreck, do they have no
sense of humour?
75 pence the government
gave me, enough for a bag of nuts,
I know my efforts will not save me, but at least I
had the guts.
Dick Turpin in the days gone by was not a man to
talk,
"Stand and deliver" he would cry, 'til they hanged
him high in York.
In 2000 it's now not so
awful, they only want your cash,
And how'd they know you'd been unlawful? 'Twas the
highly dreaded flash.
Unlike Turpin, I'll not hang, nor shall I face
suspension,
But forty pounds is an awful lot to pay out of my
pension.
The three points'
penalty as well,
I think I'll take up pottery,
To while away the boring hours,
And hope I win the lottery.
Rainbow
sheep
