Arthur, the Bexleyheath Flasher.

Old Arthur, he lived in a bedsit
With glorious views of the heath,
But he most liked to spy
With a predatory eye
At the women who strolled past beneath.

Now, just one floor down lived his neighbour
On occasion, they'd meet in the hall
Maybe pass, at the front,
With a casual grunt,
But frequently nothing at all.

Now Gwendoline kept several budgies,
And Timmy, an idle old cat
Who wouldn't look twice
At the bold teeming mice,
But persistently peed on the mat.

Those vermin drove Gwendoline potty
Though Timmy was useless, and stood
As she sank to her knees
With some traps and ripe cheese,
To sort out the rodents for good.

Now, even a grouch needs a hobby,
So Arthur sneaked out at the back
And strolled around till
He obtained a cheap thrill
With one tug of his gaberdine mac.

Of course, he avoided cold weather,
Remaining inside with a drink.
'Cos the ice and the snow
Made his chubby cheeks glow
But caused his prime asset to shrink.

They called him "The Bexleyheath Flasher."
He'd usually leap from the trees
To unfasten his clothes
And assume a lewd pose
While naked from shoulders to knees.

The police had a perfect description,
But still found him awkward to trace.
His victims, you see,
All complained bitterly,
But no-one had looked at his face.

But nevertheless, Albert's forays
Were destined to come to an end
In a really odd way,
On the very next day,
By the hand of his longstanding "friend."

Old Arthur dressed up in his outfit,
And exited over the ledge.
He crept into the night
To give someone a fright
With a flash of his meat and two veg.

But who should he meet in the garden?
Yes, Gwendoline, setting her traps.
As his coat fell apart
She leapt up with a start
And both heard an ominous "snap."

Old Arthur dashed off like greased lightning
(Still clutching his privates and yelling
In extreme agony.)
Off to casualty
To deal with the abnormal swelling.

The doctor eventually stopped laughing
And told his new patient "Be brave!
It's in such a bad state
That we should amputate.
There might not be much left to save!"

Arthur begged them to put it in plaster
But then, that would weigh such a lot..
Arthur fought back the tears.
Why, he'd had it for years!
And promptly passed out on the spot.

Old Arthur had learned a hard lesson:
That, when you get up to your tricks
You must understand
What they've got in their hand,
'Cos flashing and mousetraps don't mix!