This
had its origins as a 19th century pub song, in the style of Charles
Thatcher
Any
resemblance to recent events is purely coincidental.
Born
in the 50s in the Bay of Plenty
Rough and tough by the age of twenty.
Without your parents' love you lacked security
so you tried to compensate with promiscuity.
Bobby, with name suppression,
Trying to make an impression
At the age of twenty-five you became a cop
in a mill town, gave the rowdies the chop.
Then to slake your lust you went over the top
with pervert acts you could never-ever stop.
Bobby, with name suppression,
Cop with a sex obsession
Little Louisa was only thirteen
and for horseback riding she was really-truly keen,
"I trust you Uncle Bobby, to take care of me."
But you winked when your mate stole her virginity.
Bobby, with name suppression
Covering your mate's
transgression
For you and your mates sex together was fun
and gang-bang thrills you could not refrain from
But after a time you would never-ever come
'Til you'd made the girls scream with your baton up their
bum.
Bobby, with name suppression
Out of control aggression.
Now you're in jail from a bad baton session.
From the other inmates you're getting baton lessons.
But for batoning Louisa you won a concession
when your jail-bird status was hidden by suppression.
Bobby, with name suppression,
disgrace
to the police profession.
Bobby, with name suppression,
it's time
for your full confession.
Tune
It
is not known what tune was used for this song in the 1890s,
but it can be sung to the tune of "Davy, Davy Crockett,
king of the wild frontier."
Origins
Collected
1956 in the Wapakiwi Hotel, from Alistair Swain, who said he
had learnt it while on the swag in the 1920s. There is a
brief reference to a similar song in "Whited Sepulcres,"
Geyserland Gazette, v.5, pp.32-34, 1896.
Charles Thatcher
Coincidence
In
1981, thirteen-year-old Louise Crawford was raped by her
father's friend, a Murupara policeman. She laid a complaint
but it was ignored. In 1986, eighteen-year-old Louise, now
living in Rotorua, was visited by three other policemen, Clint
Rickards, Bob Schollum and Brad Shipton. They forced her into
a bedroom, stripped her of her long white dress, and forced a
police baton into her body. Many other Rotorua women were
assaulted in a similar way.
Constable Rapist Rickards
Louise went to senior Rotorua policeman Detective Inspector John
Dewar for help. But he owed Rickards, Schollum and Shipton for
sexual favours they had organised, and he fobbed her off and
destroyed evidence of Rickards' pack-rape. In 1993 Dewar
deliberately sabotaged two trials of the Murupara policeman who
had raped 13 year old Louise, so that this rapist friend of
Dewar's was also let off scot-free.
John Dewer and two others have now been convicted of obstructing
justice with regard to Rickards, Schollum, Shipton and the
Murapara policeman.
Schollum
and Shipton are now serving eight years in solitary
confinement for abducting and baton-raping another young
Rotorua woman.
Clint Rickards became New Zealand's O J Simpson when he
avoided conviction after unscrupulous defence lawyers
brutally attacked the rape victim with hearsay evidence,
while significant information about those who assaulted her
was suppressed.
At a second trial Rickards also avoided conviction for
kidnapping another girl, a sixteen years old, and violating
her with a whiskey bottle.
Rickards is now finishing his law degree. He is expected to
specialize in obtaining acquittals for big, rich powerful
men who have gang-raped young girls. (2007)
Clint
Rickards, lawyer,
heads back to court
Controversial former cop Clint Rickards has begun
working as a lawyer at the same Auckland courthouse
where the woman who accused him of rape assists victims
of crime.
Louise Nicholas could come face-to-face with Rickards
again, less than four years after he was acquitted of
historic rape charges against her.
Rickards had his first shift as a duty solicitor at the
Auckland District Court on Thursday. Nicholas said she
was appalled that Rickards could be defending criminals
so soon after he was in the dock himself.
A lawyer, who did not want to be named for fear of
punishment from the Law Commission, said there were many
people at the courthouse "who don't want the guy in the
building".
"He undid, in a short period of time, 100 years of work
that the men and women have given to the NZ Police. And
he did that in his professional capacity, he did that on
duty by his own admission."