Let The Streets Be My Judge

Let The Streets Be My Judge

A poem by Michael Joseph Farrelly

I stand here before you
Let the streets be my judge
Not a wig with no clue
Of life lived in drudge

On trial for my life
It's not easy to say
Fair justice is rife
With twelve it's fair play

Judging is easy
A gavel don't think
It follows the jury
Slams down in a blink

If juries no more
The streets cannot judge
The wig it will jaw
A chewed over fudge

This preset of outcome
Will be all the new rage
A symptom that's loathsome
Green light for rampage

Past times of justice
Sunsets the horizon
Woe new dawn amiss
Crowned prodigal sun

I stand here before you
But the streets not my judge
Just a wig with a view
To sentence with grudge

On trial for my life
Can't believe what they say
This beak sharpens knife
To this judge I'm prey

Now verdict's come easy
This wig will not shrink
False judgements dressed neatly
Down sad steps I slink

"Let The Streets Be My Judge" - My Inspiration

Juries are despised by the establishment for a reason, they lack control over the juries decision making. If justice can be controlled, unjust tyranny is next.

In the words of Winston Churchill:

"The jury system has come to stand for all we mean by English justice. The scrutiny of 12 honest jurors provides defendants and plaintiffs alike a safeguard from arbitrary perversion of the law."

Thomas Jefferson spoke in the same vein:

"I consider trial by jury as the only anchor ever yet imagined by man, by which a government can be held to the principles of its constitution."

MJF

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