Him at 64.

Where I'm from is pretty rough an' so's the folk in truth
Then there's them what acts stuck up, all haughty 'n' aloof
But one who neva' seems to 'ave no trouble at 'is door
Is 'im what lives just down the road at number 64.
I moved from out the area 'bout sixteen years ago
Packed me stuff 'n' upped me sticks wiv' all me kids in tow
''An' all I heard was " If you hear an 'ammering on yer door
Make sure it ain't 'im what lives down there at 64."
I have to say that living here is int'resting at least
There's always someone 'aving 'beef' or s'piciously deceased
Though looking back, I must admit, for all the blood 'n' gore
None of it has ever 'appened outside 64.
Now I ain't one to court no grief so kept me nose well clean
And honed me answer of " No officer, I never seen."
That shoulda' been the end of it, me 'forts should turn no more
To why the whole estate was scared of 'im at 64.
It served me pretty well 'n' all, until that fateful day.....
The postie knocked 'n' said " Here, take this parcel, he's away."
Then backing down me steps, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor
'n' nodded down the road 'n' said " It's his at 64. "
Me blood turned icy in me veins, me goosebumps goosebumped too
And if I'm honest, I was scared so much I 'fort I'd poo!
Me knees gave way 'n' down I crashed to me kitchen floor
Trembling at the 'fort I had to knock at 64.......
I dunno' how I done it but I made it down the road
Nerves all jangled, muscles tense, in full on f##k that mode.....
Me mouth fell open....... laughing......understanding now I saw......
A uniformed policeman lives at number 64!