Miss Marple Poem by Mary Champion

Sitting and knitting
and listening in,
gathering evidence,
unmasking sin.
Primly attired in her hat and tweed skirt,
delicate nose that can sniff out the dirt
in the dark underbelly of Saint Mary Mead,
for nothing is missed as she follows each lead.

No matter how brutal the crime,
she is fearless.
She'll outwit the plods every time.
she is peerless.
Sitting and knitting,
her grey head bent down,
nobody notices she is around.
But nothing escapes her,
her hearing's acute,
and her logical brain
is extremely astute.

Bodies in libraries;
quiet country lanes-
vicars, cracked mirrors
and murders on trains.
Nothing's too gruesome,
though she's so genteel,
she'll get to the truth
and the killer reveal.

She might appear mousy,
but don't be fooled by her.
Her dress may be dowdy,
but she's sharp as a razor.
Meet Miss Jane Marple,
as a sleuth, she excels,
rivalled only by Poirot
and his ‘leetle grey cells'.