(Let me cheat and post a poem I wrote in college...earned me a place on the editorial board in the first year!)
Guilty!
Yes , your honour, I killed her, I killed my wife,
Quite simple really, I used her own kitchen knife,
I find that funny don’t you?,
What’s the matter? I swear its all true.
You see that knife was a present, it was given to us,
At our wedding I think, or may be it was Christmas.
I suppose you’d all want to know why,
Hold on judge, methinks that woman there, could do with a good cry.
I Had had a bad day, you see I was fired,
And she refused to make tea,,I got angry,,, guess I was a wee tired,
Anyhow, “ make it yerself” she bellowed, “you can can’t you?”
She had to die judge,by god , The woman was cuckoo!,
I drove the knife through her heart, I’m sure she suffered no pain,
Why, look you all, I know what you think, you think I’m insane!
Kind of like officer Brady, he was aghast at what I had done,
He was eating doughnuts, he really should have offered me one!
Coming back to where I was, you ought not to let me me digress,
I cleaned all the blood and gore, for I detest making a mess,
I left her on the kitchen floor, I left her lyin’ there,
Made me tea ofcourse and drank it without a care,
I then walked to the station, I had no intention of getting away,
I was too weary to run, not after such a rough day!
I told the officer, I committed a crime, told him I killed her,
But he wouldn’t believe me, “you ‘fessin to murder?”
That’s all your honour, it was just a simple row,And if you have no further questions, I’d like to step down now
