RACING TO JUDGEMENT


My lady and I were returning from Coeur d'Alene --
Two Mustangs passed us racing on the highway,

She said, "Where are the police when they're needed ?"
I politely said nothing -- that's my way,

Before any more than three seconds had passed,
I saw in my mirror, a State Patrol,

He swished right around me -- his reds and blues flashing --
Figuratively played his ace in the hole,

About a mile down the road, we saw one Mustang stopped --
The driver handcuffed to the wheel,

Flying on down the road, the first one he pulled over --
A fine job, but to him no big deal,

That patrolman was a master of extreme high-speed driving --
He must have been tops at the school,

I continued down the road -- sedately travelling
At a double-nickels rate -- I'm no fool.

                                                         by D. Edgar Murray