The Judgement

 The Judge looked down, his face was grim,
 He scratched his ear;
The gangster's moll looked up at him
 With eyes of fear.

She thought: 'This guy in velvet gown,
 With balding pate,
Who now on me is looking down,
 Can seal my fate.
'

The Judge thought: 'Fifteen years or ten
 I might decree.

Just let me say the word and then
 Go home to tea.

But then this poor wretch might not be
 So long alive .
 .
 .
'
So with surprise he heard that he
 Was saying 'Five'.


The Judge went home.
 His daughter's child
 Was five that day;
And with sweet gifts around her piled
 She laughed in play.

Then mused the Judge: 'Life oft bestows
 Such evil odds.

May he who human mercy shows
 Not count on God's?'

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