Skinner had caused many waitresses a lot of grief.
Because he was a tip thief.
When he passed by a table that had laying on it a large tip.
It ended up in the pocket on his hip.
If that wasn't bad enough.
Sometimes he would sneak out of a restaurant.
Without paying for his food stuff.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about tip thief