a one hundred and twenty fourth poem...'catch a thief'

‘Wot are you doin’

Lying down there?’ said the

Policeman to the recently

Deceased.  ‘Journeying to

Heaven, of course’, replied

The spirit, recently released.

‘Oh no you’re not, you’re

Coming with me’, said the

Policeman to the spirit,

Just recently free. At which

The spirit rose weightless to the branch

Of the toppest tree, and the

Policeman dialled the fire-brigade,

A necromancer, and a priest.