I looked at his hair,

I looked at his skin,

I looked at his shoes,

And the clothes he was in,

And it didn’t take long to make up my mind;

It’s ingrained in these kids, they’re that way inclined.

This time, it’s a handbag, snatched from the bus,

He whipped it away from the seat beside us,

I did not intervene, was not tempted to stop it,

I checked my own bag, then sat back and watched it.

He was at the bus doors once we’d dropped at the shops,

He held the bag tight, got off the next stop,

Then ran back down the street, the way we’d just been,

His face would be hardened, his eyes would be mean.

He flew off that bus, elbowed others aside,

Someone said “Stop him!” but nobody tried,

Not a shadow of doubt crossed through my mind,

That kid’s face was mean, his intentions unkind.

Not sure what he did next, my memory is hazy,

But I saw him approach a defenceless old lady,

Of course our tongues wagged and his crime was discussed.

Signed: The man who was sat near the boy on the bus

You looked at my hair,

You looked at my skin,

You looked at my shoes,

And the clothes I was in,

And you made up your mind,

Right there and then,

Broad daylight robbery,

Kids! Yet again.

And yes, I did snatch the bag that you saw on the bus,

I took the green bag from the seat near to us,

The lady was rushing, got off and forgot it,

I was looking around and happened to spot it.

I did leap from the bus, bust out of the doors,

But not running away, running towards,

Your face was set hard, you’d made up your mind,

Your expression was mean, my intentions were kind.

She got up and left when the bus reached the shops,

I rescued her bag and got off the next stop,

And I dashed down the street hoping to find,

The lady who’d left the green handbag behind.

And I did catch the lady who owned the green bag,

And returned it to her while your vicious tongues wagged,

She thanked me politely; you voiced your disgust.

I’m signing off now: The Boy From The Bus