From: ranga@cs.umd.edu (M.Ranganathan)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.tamil,soc.culture.indian
Subject: An ode to Madras.
Date: 18 Nov 1996 12:22:20 -0500

OK people, this is dedicated to the permanent traffic policemen in Chennai

Once there was this city
In the south of my old land
Which once was very pretty
You may never understand

Where the cops wore skirts
Topees  and half-socks without shoes
Give them a rupee or so and 
They would let you loose

If you wanted to bug these guys
Their temper you wanted to tick.
You'd bike to one and then you'd say
I think I saw your prick.

Then you'd bike very fast away
And try to avoid his stick
Or the cop he'd chase you down
And with his stick you hit.

The Kazaghams - they took over
Our pretty little town
And strewed concrete policemen
On every street around.

There is such a polieceman
On a road once called Mount
Last I saw he was reading a book
And directing traffic around.

And many garlands the people they
Upon his head do place.
But the concrete policeman
Is really lacking grace.

For he never shakes a hand
Nor even cracks a smile
The concrete policeman
Is really very vile.

In our city once there was
A river so perfumed
It was know by one and all
As our Thames - the Coum.

I'll tell you 'bout this another day
I really will, I swear.
For the Coum it was a cleaned
By a Kazagam man with no hair.


Ranga.