To Policeman G. the Inspector said: <br />"When you pass the 'shops' you must turn your head; <br />If you took a wager, that would be a sin; <br />So you'll earn no stripes if you run them in." <br />Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah, <br />Fol-de-diddle-doh! <br />To the House Committee, the Inspector said: <br />"'Tis a terrible thing how the gamblers spread, <br />For they bet on the steeple, and they bet on the Cup, <br />And the magistrates won't lock them up." <br />Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah, <br />Fol-de-diddle-doh! <br /> <br />But Policeman G., as he walks his beat, <br />Where ghe gamblers are -- up and down the street -- <br />Says he: "What's the use to be talkin' rot -- <br />If they'd make me a sergeant, I could cop the lot!" <br />With my ring-tiy-ah, <br />Fol-de-diddle-doh! <br /> <br />"But, begad if you start to suppress the 'shop', <br />Then the divil only knows where you're going to stop; <br />For the rich and the poor, they would raise a din, <br />If at Randwick I ran fifty thousand in." <br />Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah, <br />Fol-de-diddle-doh! <br /> <br />"Though ye must not box -- nor shpit -- nor bet, <br />I'll find my way out to Randwick yet; <br />For I'm shtandin' a pound -- and it's no disgrace -- <br />On Paddy Nolan's horse -- for the Steeplechase!" <br />Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah, <br />Fol-de-diddle-doh!<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/policeman-g/
