Give a man a pen and lock him in a room,
In there is a stool and nothing but gloom,
For psychologists will watch and write some notes,
About observations that include the size of his totes,
He has the sword to write or to draw,
After a time he will become an imagination whore,
Day after day alone in a box,
Will eventually take its toll on the crazy brown fox,
The first mark he makes a scribbled intrigue,
The first signs of the man’s insanity fatigue,
Scribble, scribble, scribble scribble scribble,
A small picture is made looking like Officer Dibble,
For eventually he will unknowingly write or disclose,
The combination to his safe in pictures or prose,
Undoubtedly his password to his own personal files,
Will be scrawled and stabbed in amongst the tiles,
For it was Mr Hester, the crown in robbery takes,
Who watches the man that millions he make,
The man himself is no grade school teacher,
Can’t call himself a priest or preacher,
His nose is not clean in his everyday trudge,
He has been in dock up before a judge,
For launderings not easy except on your clothes,
Not clothes but cash, it is green he knows,
The green is what is at the heart of this pester,
Fuelled by greed the infamous Jester.
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