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Show "THE HARD BOILED COP" You think I'm a hard boiled Copper 'Writing tickets, at forty-three, Well, perhaps I'm thinking of Jaickie And all that the Lad meant to me. How's that? Tell you about it? Well, stranger, the Boy was my son. God what I'd give to hear "Daddy" Once more when the days work is done. The driver was just in a harry; He didn't intend any harm, But the sun and the stars quit shin- ing When I picked up my boys lifeless form. Well, Mister, I'll not give you a ticket;! I don't want to "Pinch" any one. But I'd ride this motor through hell j To protect another man's son. So the next" time you feel like speeding Or passing a boulevard stop, Just pause and remember my Jackie, The son of a hard boiled Cop. author unknown. |