Nursery Rhymes for Cops: Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe: Catch a Robber By the Toe, When He Hollers …

Every job has its difficulties. Police work is no different. In fact, I don’t believe there’s another job in the entire world that offers more opportunities to screw up than a career in law enforcement. Think about it. What other business provides its employees with high-powered weapons and live ammunition, a car that you can drive like a $29-dollar-a-day rental, and permission to squirt hot pepper juice in someone’s eyes when all they’ve done is try to bash in your skull? The major problem with each these quirky, but super attractive perks is that they come with a slight disadvantage, the possibility of having to take a human life, or losing your own.

To further complicate the loss of life factor is the split-second decision-making cops are faced with as a part of their everyday routine.

A plumber’s plans are laid out for him—hot on the left, cold on the right, and crap doesn’t flow uphill. Mechanics rely on a little sing-songy phrase about which direction to turn a wrench—Lefty Loosey and Tighty Righty (turn the wrench to the left to remove the bolt, or turn it to the right to tighten it).

But cops often operate in a world of gray. There are no handy-dandy nursery rhymes to guide officers through their tours of duty. But wouldn’t it be great if there were such a thing—a happy verse or two  to help relieve some of the pressure?

You know, like …

Hickory, dickory, dock,

The crook pulled out a Glock.

The cop shot once,

The thug fell down.

Hickory, dickory, dock.

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Hey diddle diddle,

The crook stole a fiddle,

The thief jumped over the fence,

The little cop laughed to see such fun,

When his dog caught up with the goon.

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This old man, he was dumb,

He sold crack vials to a bum,

In a locked up, paddy wagon,

Throw away the key;

This dumb guy ain’t coming home.

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How much crack could a crackhead smoke if a crackhead could smoke crack?

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Georgie Porgie, a ped-o-phile,

Kissed the girls and made them cry,

When the boys came out to play,

Georgie Porgie lost his mind.

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Jack and Sam Went Up the Street,

To sell a stolen gun.

Jack took off and ran away,

So Sam went pocket picking.

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Jim Plott could smoke no pot

His wife could snort no coke.

And so betwixt the two of them

They both stayed free and clean.

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Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

Catch a robber by the toe.

When he hollers, take the dough,

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

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Here We Go Round the Gangster’s House

Here we go round the gangster’s house,

The gangster’s house,

The gangster’s house,

Here we go round the gangster’s house,

So early in the morning.

 

This is the way we kick their doors,

Kick their doors,

Kick their doors.

This is the way we kick their doors

So early in the morning.

 

This is the way we cuff their wrists,

Cuff their wrists,

Cuff their wrists.

This is the way we cuff their wrists,

So early in the morning.

 

This is the way we lock them up,

Lock them up,

Lock them up,

This is the way we lock them up,

So early in the morning.

 

Here we go round the streets again,

The streets again,

The streets again.

Here we go round the streets again,

So early in the morning.

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Tinkle tinkle little drunk,

How I wonder why you pee.

On the seat inside my car,

Like a river it does flow.

 

When you finish you then puke,

Vodka, whiskey, beer and rum,

Then you cuss and spit and fight,

Tinkle tinkle just ain’t right.

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Little Boy’n Blue, put on your vest,

The crook’s in the shadows, the gun’s in his hand.

Where is the cop who looks after your back?

He’s lying in the alley, barely alive.

Will you go back? Yes, you must,

For if you don’t, he’s sure to die.

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Polly Peters snatched a stack of speckled spectacles. Did Polly Peters snatch the stack of speckled spectacles?

If Polly Peters snatched a stack of speckled spectacles, where’s the stack of speckled spectacles Polly Peters snatched?

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Pease-porridge hot, Pease-porridge cold,

Pease-porridge in the pot, nine days old;

Some liked it hot, left out to rot,

Some ate from the pot, died on the spot.

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Finally, to the tune of “Five Little Indians” …

 

Five little bad guys punching on his head,

Man fell down and hit the ground.

Witness called the po-leece and the message said,

“We’re defunded ain’t nobody here.”

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I know, I’m goofy …