This poem was originally published in the Starsky and Hutch Special Collection, published by Neon RainBow Press. Thanks go to Marlene for typing / first proofing and to SHaron for final proofing.
T'was the Week Before Xmas
Sung to the tune of... uh, read to the tune of... Does anyone remember "The Night Before Christmas?" Well, it goes sort of like that . . .
T'was the week before Christmas and all through the city, not a mugger was mugging, the cops thought was a pity.
The police were patrolling their beats with care, in hopes that a crime soon would appear. But the criminals were holed up in cheap hotel rooms, the spirit of Christmas indeed did befell them.
Starsk in his windbreaker and Hutch in his jacket, began to believe that they might bust a racket. They were down on Sunset when the call came, there seemed to be some trouble over a dame.
It was then that they spied the golden Mercedes, with one black dude and a string of ladies. Out jumped a man with a scar and a limp, they knew in a moment it must be a pimp.
As he pulled out a switchblade and prepared for a fight, he turned to the women and screamed with all his might... "Now, Daisy and Dolly and Sally and Honey, get out on the street and make me some money!"
And then in an instant, he flew down the alley. They knew to catch him, they must not dally. Starting to follow and drawing their guns, they mused it wasn't going to be much fun.
They were just about to give up for the night, when they saw a shadow move to the right. Then from a garbage can came such a sneeze, they spun around and told him to freeze.
As he stared at the Magnum of his host, his face became white as a ghost. In desperation, he balled his fists, but they threw him against the wall and handcuffed his wrists.
As he knew he was licked, he gave up the fight. On the way back to the car, they read him his rights.
Dobey was so pleased back at the station, he told them they might get a vacation.
Knowing he was in danger of taking a fall, the pimp demanded they grant him his one phone call.
It was no great secret that the call was to a lawyer, for ten minutes later one was waiting in the foyer. He was a fast talker with a sharp tongue, had his client out on bail before the paperwork was done.
When the lawyer told him he could leave the can, the pimp knew he was truly a free man. Starting for the door and the rising sun, he turned to bend every finger down but one.
And they heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, "#*$%&^$@!"