“Mr. John, do you plead guilty,
Or, say for this theft not guilty?”
The judge asked the young thief,
At the end, this question in brief.
“No, My Lord, I’m not guilty,
I say this upon the Almighty.
To tell the truth, my mom is guilty,
For her care upon me faulty.”
“My dad passed away,
I still remember that day,
When my mom cried,
I was then just a child.”
“In my student days,
I stole in small ways,
Coins from my house.
But my mom ignored this.”
“When I was grown up,
My wants also grew up.
I became a pick pocket,
Around the busy market.”
“My mom didn’t say a word,
Much about me when she heard,
No corrective steps she had taken,
Nor, with a stick I was beaten.”
“For her fault, I bear the brunt.
I’m taken to the court front.
This is a lesson to every mom.
Now it’s my duty to inform.”
The judge found some reason in this,
But failed to admit the plea of his,
As his blame on the mom to shift,
Never did the law book permit.