THE LONDON 'BOBBY'
A TRIBUTE TO THE POLICEMEN OF ENGLAND'S CAPITAL

Here in my cosy corner,
   Before a blazing log,
I'm thinking of cold London
   Wrapped in its killing fog;
And, like a shining beacon
   Above the picture grim,
I see the London 'Bobby,'
   And sing my song for him.

I see his stalwart figure,
   I see his kindly face,
I hear his helpful answer
   At any hour or place.
For, though you seek some by-way
   Long miles from his own beat,
He tells you all about it,
   And how to find the street.

He looks like some bold Viking,
   This king of earth's police--
Yet in his voice lies feeling,
   And in his eye lies peace;
He knows and does his duty--
   (What higher praise is there?)
And London's lords and paupers
   Alike receive his care.

He has a regal bearing,
   Yet one that breathes repose;
It is the look and manner
   Of one who thinks and knows.
Oh, men who govern nations,
   In old worlds or in new,
Turn to the London 'Bobby'
   And learn a thing or two.

Poems of experience. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London : Gay and Hancock, Ltd. 1910.


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