Sub Judice

A weasel once was brought up short

For stealing eggs—he faced the court,

But when the judge came at him strong,

He said, “Your Honor, that’s plain wrong.”

The judge gave him a stony stare.

“There’s twenty hens who saw you there.”

“Oh, I was there—that part is true,

But only ‘cause it’s something new

That weasels—even though henpecked—

Must do and that is to inspect

The eggs to test for quality.”

The judge looked doubtful. “Oh?” said he.

“It’s now the way to keep from waste

And also to improve the taste.”

“So you admit the crime?” “Oh no—

I didn’t eat them—that’s not so.

I picked them up—that is the law,

And weighed each with a careful paw.”

“But you’ve got egg around your muzzle.”

“That’s true—but that’s an easy puzzle:

The eggs were bad—each one was loaded

With rotten yoke—they all exploded

And scattered it from place to place—

And one of those was on my face.”

“I don’t think that that tale has legs—

The hens say that you ate the eggs.”

“Eat rotten eggs?” the weasel yips.

“No! Well, I might have licked my lips—

But that was something never meant,

Your Honor—just pure accident.”

“An accident?” the justice yells.

“The hens have proof—you ate the shells!”

“Me? Never!” said the weasel, “why

Would you think so? I never lie.

The shells, when they exploded, flew

Outside the henhouse—out of view.

So that’s what happened. That makes sense.

And so, because the evidence

That I ate eggs is clearly wrong,

If you don’t mind, I’ll move along.”

“Now stop right there for, truth to tell,

The justice said, “a certain smell

Still clings—some further evidence

Is needed to prove innocence.”

“More?” asked the weasel. “Simple, man!

I am, in fact, republican

And take for model trump and pence.

Their view of truth is my defense.”

A knowing look came to the face

Of justice, “Well, if that’s the case…”

“It is and so I must insist

I’m innocent.” “Yes. Case dismissed,”

The judge replied, “I quite agree.

Arrest those hens—for perjury!”


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