When I rob banks, the tellers panic with fright.
But I'm not a mean thief, I'm always polite.
When I demand money from the tellers, I always say please.
So far I'm a crook that the Police haven't been able to seize.
One bank teller was a man who wore a wig and a dress, he was a Transvestite.
The jerk severed my pinky finger when he grabbed my hand and gave it a bite.
I was way too polite to shoot him for it.
I grabbed my finger and as I drove to the hospital, I decided to floor it.
Right now I'm in Kansas and I'm robbing a bank in the town of Wichita.
The Cops just walked in, I'm finally going to be apprehended by the law.
I'm so polite that I've never been able to be tough.
I'm crying like a baby as the Cops slap on the cuffs.
(This is a fictional poem)