"I started writing poems at the age of 69 years when I was caught by a camera travelling at 35 miles per hour and I had to pay the financial penalty and, of course, had the three points put on my licence.  That was my first and only 'conviction' and I have to say I was somewhat miffed"

THE HIGHWAYMEN OF CLEVELAND

On my motor bike I started out in 1952,
Now half-a-century's almost passed and I am feeling blue.
I've reached the age of 69 with no blot on my name,
Now I've just received a fine, I hang my head in shame.

Five miles too fast was all it took to make the camera flash,
Then they played it by the book and demanded all my cash.
Perhaps I've been a little naughty, it was an oversight,
But wanting money - pounds times forty - means I can't sleep at night.

I'm not really one to shout, I do have bread well buttered,
But if for months I can't eat out, I'll be well and truly gutted.
I know how much they need my cheque, I've also heard a rumour,
But really they've made me a wreck, do they have no sense of humour?

75 pence the government gave me, enough for a bag of nuts,
I know my efforts will not save me, but at least I had the guts.
Dick Turpin in the days gone by was not a man to talk,
"Stand and deliver" he would cry, 'til they hanged him high in York.

In 2000 it's now not so awful, they only want your cash,
And how'd they know you'd been unlawful? 'Twas the highly dreaded flash.
Unlike Turpin, I'll not hang, nor shall I face suspension,
But forty pounds is an awful lot to pay out of my pension.

The three points' penalty as well,
I think I'll take up pottery,
To while away the boring hours,
And hope I win the lottery.