WHO SAYS THAT CRIME DOESN'T PAY ?

a poem by William Willis, Scotland

Its Christmas at Barlinnie but Jimmys free now on the streets.
He's homeless and bedraggled and ignored by friends he meets.
Its Christmas at Barlinnie,all the cons are getting fed.
Three course lunch,tea and mints,full english and fried bread.

Jimmys in and out of jail,a life full of crime and sin.
Less money in his pocket now recession is kicking in.
He was in and out of jail,a convict, thief and liar.
His family have dis-owned him,their dreams now lie in tatters.

As mollycoddled prisoners,tuck into their Christmas treats.
Jimmy's bones are freezing,it's minus fiveteen on the street.
As mollycoddled prisoners,feast on a turkey steak.
Jimmy's bellies empty,there is no food there on his plate.

Distant moon now watches closely,Jimmy sleeps in cardboard box.
Drunken revellers,slamming shutters,smell of hot-dogs,hungry fox.
Distant moon now watches,as the night turns into day.
Jimmy's dreaming of Barlinnie,who says that crime doesn't pay.

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