I was on the road to hell, recently. Interesting scenery, and terrific people walking. I noted with interest that
Everyone on the road with me had paid a special tax To have the path made of engraved Congressional acts
and, with my recent troubles in the law concluded, naturally I came across a member of our esteemed judiciary.
A man with robe of black and white polyester rings Of machine-extruded hair and such other things: A gavel swinging from his neck on a golden chain And generous ration of - you might not expect - pain Such as a conscientious member of the bench might pack But in this case due to the burden on his back: A long (and clearly a very heavy) wooden shelf With books and marble busts, and all balanced on himself. He told me gambling demons would come & bet their all On which way the over-burdened shelf was going to fall; Gold and silver tokens, castles and kings as well, And the destinies of innocents, and those already doomed to hell, Were wagered, and the outcome (though they hardly seemed to care) Seemed so vital that His Honour tried to keep things fair.I laughed so hard that I cried, or it might have been the other way around. Tonight I'm going over to the Leff St. Lounge to get drunk, either way.
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