A light-hearted poem on a serious topic
The act of prostitution is a serious offence,
As witnessed by the jury in this tale of decadence:
His Honour, feeling tetchy, saw before him, in the dock,
A flighty, fallen woman in a flimsy, frilly frock.
‘Soliciting again?’ he barked. ‘You ladies go too far.’
‘It wasn’t me,’ she shouted, ‘It was him what stopped the car!’
‘Blaming others yet again? So, tell me, where’s your proof?’
His Honour sneered from high above, all pompous and aloof.
‘I’ll get Your Honour proof,’ she said, ‘and make the scoundrel pay!
I’ll grab him where it really hurts before he gets away.’
‘How often’, said His Honour, ‘have you seen this man about?’
‘Oh, several times,’ she answered. ‘If you like I’ll point him out.’
‘You’ll point him out?’ His Honour said. ‘And can you tell me how?’
‘Oh yes, Your Honour,’ she replied, ‘He’s in the courtroom now.’‘
‘No need to point,’ His Honour said, ‘you’re innocent I see.’
And, much to everyone’s surprise, he let her off scot-free.
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