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June 26, 1990

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Courtroom

The black-robed judge with silver hair
Calls name on name to face the bench.
He asks each one with patient stare
To state a plea and be a mensch.
The docket is so large it creaks
But many people don't appear.
The sun comes in with brilliant streaks
And some defendants quake with fear.
Though many face a sentence stiff
They turn away from legal aid.
They need not jump a nearby cliff
If they have not their guilt betrayed.
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