The Drunken Policeman

His favorite name is--Hic,
His mother called him--Vic,
At work he is Corporal--Vic,
A number of things make him sick,
First, he thinks his wife is thick,
Second, The inspector calls him a prick,
Why don't the two ever think?
He thinks.

He works for the traffic department,
He can always sneak to the bar segment,
Too much has changed his skin pigment,
What he knows best is bad treatment,
He will issue tickets with excitement,
I wonder if he will stand his punishment,
When a victim will tell the graft department,
Will he attend his hearing with excitement?

In the evening he boasts the pub down,
None but him holds the imbibing crown,
He sits on the bar stool throne,
He can drink up to dawn,
He turns all the alcohol stones,
His jalopy of a car hits all stones,
He says it knows its way home,
From the look of things,
Both the car and the owner are on the way home,
His epitaph will be his last crown,
How about, THE DRUNKEN POLICEMAN!!

© Mr. Reality Check.