Oh, but you were

So sneaky,

On this drab,

Cold Tuesday morn,

When you came

Softly creeping

Through the

Steel grey

Light of dawn.

 

Where was the

March of boots?

The thump of your

Stamping feet?

Instead you Hi-Viz boys

Slipped quietly,

Wraith-like,

Along our

Sleeping street.

 

With voices strangely muted,

Your words uttered low,

Who listened at your arrival?

Or even heard you go?

And prowling up behind you,

Lurking, ever eager for the feast,

Crawled the fearsome,

Awful behemoth,

The monster they call

The Beast.