Trial And Error.
It were summat to four, when it dropped through the door,
but it could have been summat past three.
"What is it?" Said Ma. "Search me," answered Pa.
"If you open the bugger you'll see."
Ma gave a loud. "TUT!" Then she opened it up.
"It's official," she said. "From the Crown."
Pa said. "The Crown where I sup? - Where the Glee Club meets up?"
She said. "No. - The Crown Court up in town."
Pa went into shock. "Quick Ma, make a fresh pot,
nice and strong, touch of milk, loads of sugar.
I'm worried," said Pa. "Don't be soft." Answered Ma,
"you're on a Jury, next Monday, daft bugger."
"On a Jury? Pa shouts. "What's that all about?"
"Sat sitting," said Ma, "for a trial.
Just paying attention to evidence mentioned,
and trying not to look daft for a while."
You'll have guessed Pa were thick, a bit of a twit,
but he'd been like that all of his life.
I'd once heard him remark that he thought Joan Of Arc,
was summat to do with Noah's wife.
"Come with us," said Pa. "Bugger off!" Muttered Ma.
"Do you think I've nowt better to do?"
"But I'll be all on me own," Pa said with a groan,
"and you know I can't cope without you."
Ma raised up her voice. "Have I got any choice?
You're as thick as twelve bog seats, you are.
About as much use as a basket of soup."
Pa smiled, picked his nose, and said. "Ta."
So, they arrived there on time, about quarter past nine.
"Now listen," said Ma, "do your best."
Then, with one of her looks. "And don't show us up!
I'll be sat over there with the press."
The Judge straightened his wig, as he put out his cig.
"Hey up," he said, "court's now in session.
And he can like it or not, that there bloke in the dock,
is charged with an act of aggression."
The prosecution said. "Aye, and I'll tell you for why,
he shot a bloke, unprovoked, through the head.
That's murder you see, of the umpteenth degree,
and the victim? The poor bugger's dead."
"Now the cause of the affray? That's exhibit A,
a COPY of the gun that we found.
I borrowed this off me daughter, cos it only shoots water."
So Pa, fair enough, thought he'd drowned.
"Objection! Your honour," shouts the defence bloke, O'Connor.
"That's hearsay and should be thrown out.
The accused wasn't there, he was washing his hair,
and even if he was, he did nowt."
"But his print's on the trigger," said the Judge with a snigger,
"are you saying that he didn't pull it?"
"That's conjecture your honour," argued O'Connor.
"The deceased had backed into the bullet."
Pa's brain were quite dazed, so he gave Ma a wave,
and O'Connor saw Ma waving back.
He was losing the case, so thought he'd save face,
by asking her round for a chat.
He said. "I've got this here plan, for you and your man,
If I give you this thousand quid bung.
And the Jury aggrees, to manslaughter you see,
there's less chance the poor sod'll be hung."
Quick as lightning were Ma. "That won't go very far."
"All right then," he said. "How's two grand?"
"Make it five," said Ma, "and I'll sort it with Pa,
and make the daft sod understand."
The Jury debated for days, and argued away,
each had a thought on the trial.
They all had a say, but Pa wouldn't give way,
dug his heels in he did, sort of style.
The Judge had it confirmed. "Manslaughter!" He squirmed.
"That's life then," he said, "no remission.
Just bang him in jail, you can forget about bail,
cos bloody hangmans just lost his commission!"
Pa were over the Moon, he could have popped a ballon,
when O'Connor paid up for his bit.
Pa said. "I've earned every pound, for talking them round,
cos, the others all said. "LET'S AQUIT!"
© Stan Brown. (With thanks to Gary Hoggs magic fiddling stick).