The Judge

A judge is a fellow
The years have made mellow,
He’s upper class, learned, benign,
A Mason and clod,
A believer in God,
Out of touch, pompous and asinine.

Though he should be impartial,
The words of a marshal
Weigh heavy with him, like a saint,
For in his lordship’s eyes
Police never tell lies,
And act always with proper restraint.

He’s compassionate when
The most evil of men
Stands before him charged with child molesting,
For he thinks that could be
By the grace of God, me -
But shoplifters he finds very testing.

Summing up for the Crown
Hoping he will send down
An alleged thief, he smiles at the jury
Who then freely acquit,
Thinking: biased old git!
Undeterred by the thought of his fury.

For the truth is that though
He’s a scholar and pro
And intimidates many who face him,
There is such a foul stench
Given off by the bench
That there’s many who want to replace him.

And as juries get wise
To the boys in blue’s lies
And the dolt who controls the proceedings,
They’re less easily swayed
By the judge’s upbraid
And the dastardly rozzers’ misleadings.

That’s no exaggeration,
The shame of our nation
Are the Maguire and Guildford cases,
And the Birmingham Six:
A professional fix -
Grave injustices, awful disgraces.

Fitted up by the Yard,
The judge stared long and hard
At these men before lifing them off,
And appeal and appeal
Was rejected with zeal:
It’s no wonder so many now scoff.

Scoff with scorn at the law
And its highly paid whore
In his powdered wig, gown and suspenders
Sending innocent men
Down for HMP when
He lets off grinning nonces with benders.

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