Radio McPrincesses

Recently I visited, Comm. Centre Channel Two,

And what should I observe up there, or maybe it was who.

Two pixies dancing round and round, with silver hats and wands,

The Northside Dispatch Princesses, two happy, laughing blondes.

McDougall and McKenna, Cindy and Colleen,

Dancing round "Tex" Ashabranner, the Southeast Radio Queen.

Spells were casting round the room, sparks began to fly,

I'm sure it was electrical, or something in my eye.

Each one is flitting to and fro, from Southside o'er to North,

Dancing getting frenzied now, incantations spewing forth.

I'm sure this is a ritual, I've stumbled in upon,

But some up there suggested, it's just their minds have gone.

From pressures of the Northside, and a call-load gone berserk,

Each day the two sit side by side, when getting set for work.

Dispatching calls and dealing with, us units on the street,

Run those CPIC's, answer phones, it is really quite a feat.

Not everyone could do their job, at least I know, I can't,

Maybe, oh just maybe, there's a motive in their chant.

I know that I appreciate, all who work up there,

And the work they do to keep us safe, we all should be aware.

If the stresses get to them, and they start to dance and sing,

Don't worry for their sanity, it's just a little thing.

Now it's time to end this poem, with a warning to us all,

Do not piss off the dispatcher, or you'll surely take a fall.

PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 95-02-06 (117)