The impudent high headed quinquagenarian court judge,
Managed to flatter everyone in the courtroom with his manouvre of the English language,
Every day he taught his fellow British mates, how the art of mastering the mother tongue, tastes.
This morning, he had to preside over the lawsuit called the 'theatrical murders',
He begun the proceedings, with the spoonerism chapter.
The lawyers, the accused and the witnesses, had to concede underneath his ritual,
'Spoonerism' was today's erudite lesson,
Exchanging the initial sounds of two words in a sentence, he explained,was it's definition.
"Felling tree" transforms to "telling free".
"Liam's a shame" makes "Shiam's a lame".
Amusing it seemed only to the judge,
He finished his habitual chores when everyone's patience begun to smudge.
The accused seemed scared to death just as a rat by the fear of snake,
He couldn't speak of anything except repeating the phrase,
"Cole is pulp red, Cole is pulp red".
The judge couldn't tie this invisible thread.
Hearing all the pleadings he gave death sentence as a verdict.
For days he tried to solve this mischievous puzzle, as a dose of some deliberate hustle.
At 5 in the morning the theatrical murderer was hanged.
The restless judge simultaneously
wrote those letters in his hand
He again tried to decode it's sense.
"Cole is pulp red".
Cole is pulpred.
Pole is culpred.
Polis culpred.
Police culprit.
Unfortunately, the innocent was by then menaced.
