The London 'Bobby'

A Tribute To The Policemen Of Englands 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 eyes 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 new,
Turn to the London ‘Bobby’
 And learn a thing or two.