David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
The Bus Stop Flasher
The police looked here
The police looked there,
Oh, those police looked everywhere.
Behind the library, through the shops,
Around the corner where the bus stops.
They tried the High Street – not there
They couldn’t find him anywhere.
Those who saw him didn’t see his face
Because when they did, off he’d race.
Doris saw him, and to her amazement,
Her false teeth fell on the pavement
And chatted and chatted to what gain
Oh, that Bus Stop Flasher strikes again.
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