The Mighty Sherlock Holmes

He is the master, Sherlock Holmes

Of all the total sum

When sleuthing down the ruthless soul

There is no greater one

There is no man of twisted way

Beyond his realm of thought

No puzzle can befuddle him

Each villain comes to naught

For though he is a noble man

He can discern their way

By thinking as the devils do

One step ahead of they

He is the morbid, Sherlock Holmes

A man of many moods

When matters do not go his way

With violin he broods

He seeks out murder, greed and lust

To end their evil reign

But finds temptation always near

In needles of cocaine

And much prefers his cigarettes

Tobacco, every kind

And when it comes to ladies fair

He pays them never mind

He is the maker, Sherlock Holmes

Creator of strange brews

His chemistry he dearly loves

The science that he woos

And then there are the little games

He plays with sinful men

As kitten toys with helpless mouse

He has his fun with them

And takes such joy embarrassing

The best of Scotland Yard

And laughs about the simple clues

Those vain men find so hard

He is the mighty, Sherlock Holmes

Of this make no mistake

When others, all their hope have lost

He can an answer make

For he will not surrender that

Which he has vowed to spend

With vigor and tenacity

Unto the bitter end

To ever fight the foes of truth

And dash the evil plan

He is the mighty, Sherlock Holmes

The legend and the man

Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia