Tattoo

I’d call him a big man
Swarthy and dark
And he sat in the seat in front of me
And wrote trouble in the air
And passengers avoided his eye

He spoke on the phone
He’d been to Brighton
To talk to the police
About the sneak thief
Who had stolen his briefcase

He would recognise him
He had a star tattoo
On his neck

I pulled up my collar
And sank down in my seat
And concentrated on the Metro
And finishing the difficult Su Doku