Forensic Accountant

Tired of police, detectives, lawyers,
Secret agents protecting our borders?
Talking to ghosts, reading minds,
Heroes all, stopping dastardly crimes.

There remains only one crime sleuth                        
Who doesn’t change clothes in a telephone booth.
He carries no gun,
But when he approaches evil doers run.

No TV shows promote his work,
They think of him as merely a clerk.
But when on the case
The Forensic accountant shows a determined face.

Going through records, spotting the error,
On the job the man’s a terror.
Yes he is the man
Tracing bills like nobody can.

Finding the voucher or telltale check,
Building a case that’s certain to stick,
Risking his life and pen,
Catching the fox close to the den.

Surly, with the right cast,
A melodrama would last
Year after year, that’s certain,
As each new episode raises the curtain.

With computers and software
Designed to put victims, unaware,
At disasters door, while thugs in wait
Are set to suffer a terrible fate.

Not knowing our man’s on the job.
Let’s all hail this most precious of slobs,
Toiling away with keen suspicion,
Our Forensic accountant, with no recognition.