Street lamps burned on Bausman Street
As Betty made her rounds.
"I brake for crooks" upon her shirt
She listened for criminal sounds.
Bausman Street was quiet this night,
Betty's boulevard was clear.
For no transgressor would show their face
With this female ninja near.
Betty was decked in camouflage
Her face set in a sneer.
A nightstick graced her ample hip.
Her tattoo read "No fear."
She peered through the laundromat window,
Checked that nothing moved within,
When suddenly, from behind the pet store,
She heard the sounds of sin.
Betty flew up Bausman Street,
Her purse was open wide.
From it she pulled her pepper spray
To burn the felon's hide.
When Betty reached the pet store
She crouched behind the trash,
And watched as sinister figures
Passed bags of dope and cash.
Then Betty jumped from hiding
With a scream that split the night.
Three of the perps ran off in fear
But two stayed for a fight.
Dear Betty was upon them
In the twinkle of an eye.
She pepper sprayed the first one
Then bshed the other guy.
Her night stick flew too fast to see,
Her feet and hands were blurs.
She didn't stop until she stood
Above two unconscious curs.
As you can guess 'twas quite a mess
As the black-and-whites rolled in.
And Betty stood there proudly
With a wide, victorious grin.
But Betty's back in prison now.
She's pushing brooms and mops.
It seems she'd beaten half to death
Two under cover cops.
x-x-x
There were no sirens, no gun fire,
On Bausman Street at all.
Only the sounds of children's games,
The bouncing of a ball.
If you wonder at the reason,
That Bausman Street's not hell,
It's because the last few months have seen
Dear Betty locked in jail.
But with her debt to society paid
Betty's now to be set free.
She sheds a tear as she says goodbye
To her pals from cell block three.
She waves to Spike, to Killer and Weed
As she heads across the yard.
She bums a smoke from Clovis May,
The burly female guard.
Clovis opens up the gate
And Betty breathes free air,
Then walks on home to Bausman Street
'Cause she hasn't taxi fare.
She was about half way to Bausman Street
When her vigilante mind
Perceived an act of violence
Behind a towering pine.
Shouting words she'd learned from Spike
And clutching tight her purse
Betty ran to intervene
Before the crime got worse.
She found two men with knives held high
And circling for a fight.
But never did they altercate
For Betty swung left and right.
Police were called and had the task
Of adding up the factors
To determine why this crazy gal
Had beat up on two good actors.
The thespians now are good as new
(Strong players of Veronica's Veil)
And Bausman Street is quiet now,
'Cause Betty's back in jail.
x-x-x
BY Ingold Inglorian
One quiet night on Bausman Street
When most all folks were sleepin',
Betty heard a dubious sound
And to her window she went creepin'.
She peeked out through her silken drapes
To the quiet street below.
And in the vacant lot she saw
A flashlight's foxfire flow.
From her perch she saw a sight
That caused her fists to harden,
The criminal element of Bausman Street
Were tending a cannabis garden.
Betty watched as they hoed their patch
Behind the weeping willow
And then she went and grabbed her club
From underneath her pillow.
She donned her homemade ninja suit,
Stole quietly across the lawn --
She'd taken a karate class
So those punks had best begone!
With a scream that split the quiet
Of Bausman Street that night
Betty attacked the gardening perps,
Putting up an awful fight.
The gardeners split and Betty vowed
To burn the crop that night.
She took a match from her ninja purse
And put the weed to light.
Police came when observed the flame
And found Betty in the smoke.
They heard her giggling furiously
But didn't get the joke.
They cuffed her hands and took her purse,
She acted quite the fool
She said one word when questioned,
And that one word was, "Cool."
She called the cops and they did say,
'Twas dirty pool indeed.
They said they'd comb Bausman Street
Until they found the dweeb.
So vigilance was the watchword,
Of every single cop.
So many badges on Bausman Street,
It looked like a donut shop.
Thus Bausman Street was safe and sound,
And that's the way it stayed,
Until the day of the Fourth of July
Mt. Oliver Day parade.
On this day sweet Betty walked,
Again on Bausman Street,
A new purse hanging from her arm,
The color of golden wheat.
And you can guess, it was this day,
That the cur again did strike.
He grabbed poor Betty's golden purse,
And down Bausman Street did hike.
She whacked his head and whacked his ribs,
She even whacked his feet.
Until cops came to take them both
Away from Bausman Street.
But Betty was quite intransigent
On Bausman Street that day --
She whacked the crook and every cop
That happened in her way.
They tackled Betty on Bausman Street,
They took away her club.
They cuffed her hands behind her back,
And pulled her from the shrubs.
And now the thief of Bausman Street
Has gotten out on bail.
But Betty sits and contemplates
The bars that form her cell.