Poetry Archives

Upspoke the culprit at the bar,
          Conducting his own case:
‘Your Lordship, I have gone to far,
          But grant me of your grace.
As I was passing by a shop
          I saw my arm go out,
And though I begged of it to stop,
          It stole beyond a doubt.

‘But why should my whole body be
          Condemned to dungeon grim,
For what in fact was only the
          Transgression of a limb?
So here before the Court I stand,
          And beg in Justice’ name:
Please penalise my arm and hand,
          But not my frame.’

Outspoke the Judge with voice of ice,
          Although a smile he hid:
‘Quite right! You should not pay the price
          For what one member did.
Your reasoning I must admit;
          Your arm should gaol expect . . .
Three months! And if you follow it
          The Court does not object.’

The culprit smiled with sudden charm,
          Then to the Court’s dismay,
Quickly removed a wooden arm
                    And went away.