The Phantom Knicker Knocker ©
A dedication to an unknown, unsung, hero who made his mark in 1951
in Hill Street, Hamilton, Scotland.
Thomas Matthew Edgar
He'd nick those knickers in the night,
and knock them off by day,
from clothes lines up and down the street,
the Phantom had his way.
The women all came out in force;
the year was fifty one,
serving notice they were tired
of chilblains on their bum.
They set a trap to catch this chap
those daughters, mums and aunties,
but the Phantom was too slick for them--
he still ripped off their panties.
Our ladies were in deep despair
they'd make the bugger pay.
No female smalls were safe at all,
they fell to his foray.
In desperation they approached
the law, our local whackers.
They would not stop till they could cop
the knicker knocker's knackers.
"A vigil round the clock!" they said,
"That's what we need to nail him!"
they hid in bushes, taking turns
determined to assail him.
But the Phantom demonstrated how--
with ease he could acquire,
with absolute impunity,
their intimate attire.
Like the damned elusive Pimpernel,
the Phantom he was sought
while the local lads made up a game called--
'spot the you know what'.
As the winter gales began to blow,
the lads would catch a sight
of unclad female naughty bits,
they began to see the light.
The Phantom thus was promptly raised
to a legend in our time,
to the bare bummed female gender though,
'an unrelenting swine'.
The word went out that he'd been caught,
but it was only rumours
with monotonous regularity
he still knocked off their bloomers.
As quickly as the show began
abruptly it did cease.
The ladies' cold sores slowly healed
and they were left in peace.
Our knicker knocker left his mark
and after all this time
is still remembered fondly
like an aging vintage wine.
A list of his collection is catalogued beneath
(for the sake of local history)
the range of ladies briefs
purple ones and pinky ones,
and skimpy rinky dinky ones
blotchy ones and splotchy ones
and some without a crotchy ones
elastic ones and plastic ones
and even slightly drastic ones
the Phantom he was ruthless
in the drive to fill his need
raggy ones and saggy ones
and flappy national flaggy ones
lacy ones and see through ones
and some that you could pee through ones
faded and forlorn ones
even ripped and torn ones
their wardrobe decimated
by the Phantom in his greed.
To this very day no one can say
who nicked the ladies knickers
unsubstantiated rumour has...
it was the local vicar.