Poems of Experience/The London "Bobby"

A TRIBUTE TO THE POLICEMEN OF ENGLAND’S CAPITAL

Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I’m thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog; And, like a shining beacon Above the picture grim, I see the London ‘Bobby,’ And sing my song for him.

I see his stalwart figure, I see his kindly face, I hear his helpful answer At any hour or place. For, though you seek some by-way Long miles from his own beat, He tells you all about it, And how to find the street.

He looks like some bold Viking, This king of earth’s police - Yet in his voice lies feeling, And in his eye lies peace; He knows and does his duty - (What higher praise is there?) And London’s lords and paupers Alike receive his care.

He has a regal bearing, Yet one that breathes repose; It is the look and manner Of one who thinks and knows. Oh, men who govern nations, In old worlds or in new, Turn to the London ‘Bobby’ And learn a thing or two.