Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the city
Not a thug was stirring oh my what a pity;
And the flat saps were hung by the jail with care,
In hopes they wouldn’t be used in there.
The brass were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of paperwork danced in their heads;
READ ON
http://www.police-writers.com/night_before_christmas.html
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