Sunday, August 19, 2007

Chief Inspector Mulligan

Chief Inspector Mulligan
Was flying off to Crete,
Swapping Dublin drizzle for
Some continental heat.

He’d packed his suitcase carefully,
His helmet and his truncheon ,
And sandwiches [in case the flight
Did not provide a luncheon.]

His boxer shorts and swimming-trunks
Complete with Garda crest ,
And eau-de-Bridewell aftershave –
The girls would be impressed.

His size-twelve boots were polished bright,
His efforts had been ceaseless ,
His shiny-buttoned uniform
Was folded flat and creaseless.

And now he strained and heaved and puffed
To get the suitcase flattened
Down enough to ensure that
The hatches could be battened.

Eventually the catches clicked
And in their locks reposed
“Aha!” cried he, quite breathlessly
“At last, the case is closed.”

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