Stuart Robertson - Photographer

It’s the law, son

Don’t you see clearly?

No over-stepped marks

Don’t speak until talked to

There’s some who take liberties- criminal tendencies

Best to clamp-down on all and give no doubt benefit

 

I don’t make the rules, lad

They’re there for your own good

Paternal dictator

Softly, softly reminder

Don’t you know what the time is?

Not one for smart-Alec back chat

 

Smack on the legs

Crime as appropriate punishment

Knew where you were with Corporal

Believing eye for eye sentencing was capital

Firm clip round the ear

For even thinking such things now

 

Murmur for justice

Knowing it’s not fair

There’s nowhere like England

To kick-off at football

Child-like dreaming brought to a stand-still

Halted by uniformed jobsworths

and signs for no smoking