A Case For Sherlock Holmes Poem by George Hunter

Get up Dear Watson, don't pretend you're sick,
We've got crimes to solve and clues to pick.
We can't just lie around all day
We've got to get going and be on our way.
We've a new case out on the moors,
Where a big black hound is harassing the whores.
They say it's near the Baskerville's
Some good old boys up in the hills.
We'll solve this case, I'm sure it's as plain,
As upon the plain rain falls in Spain.
What we have to do in this situation,
Is try to retain our reputation.
We'll interview them all one by one,
This will be a lot of fun.
We'll question them upon their bed,
Maybe a clue (or something else) will rear its head.
And perhaps, in all our zeal,
We can cop a little feel.
Stop thinking that, it's too degrading,
Let's get started, not keep them waiting.
So we questioned and questioned them all the day,
Trying to decide which ones to lay.
But we weren't making much headway.
At this rate we'll be here till spring
We best let Inspector Lestart do his thing.
So back to London Sherlock flew,
To smoke his pipe and enjoy a brew
And maybe to revive his brain
With a little hit of the old cocaine.
It's cases like this that tend to soil
The reputation of A. Conan Doyle.
And I'll have to say amid all this flotsam
It's elementary,
My Dear Watson!