Inspector Clouseau Poem by David McLansky

Inspector Clouseau
A flic de la rue
Always knew what to do;
Whether disarming bombs
Or shouting alarms,
He was a Frenchman though and through.

In the Art of Disguise
He was often unwise,
In fact he one time went nude;
With an unplayed guitar
He got into his car,
And showed he wasn't a prude;

He wouldn't relent
A hound on the scent
When pursuing those outside "the loo."
He practiced Karate
Though his houseboy was dotty
While bedding Yvette Mimieux.