Jacques Benoit never tells the truth |
I’m Dr Jacques Benoit, I have great patience But where are my patients? Are they late? It’s quarter past eight Where are they Marie? Find them…NOW! Marie stomped off in a strop, “You’re an evil doctor!” She found some cuddly friends, Without Jacques, she could make amends, Obedient were Sami, Toots, and Sooty. I’m Police Constable Benoit, Proud to be receiving a promotion, I stopped Marie and all the commotion, Arrested Sami and the thieves, Silent as ever about their treachery. Ungrateful, ungrateful, Marie, Jacques, a hero, but this she could not see, She demanded a hearing in court, It required a judge, so she sought, One with a towering might. I’m Prosecutor Benoit, Here to prove of these men’s guilt, But the judge seems not on my side, A familiar face but saving no grace, And the thieves have been released! Topsy-turvy, had the world become, For Jacques, court had just begun, A victim of his own valour, he was back, Their roles had switched, He was now on the defence. I’m Mr Benoit, a lawyer for the accused, Innocent, I am, so why am I here? This profession leaves me bemused, Because the more I try and protest, The more the judge scorns at me with detest. He told the judge of his good intent, Explaining about Marie and her twisted events, And her gang, all so uncouth, But it was now becoming clear, Jacques Benoit never told the truth. Poem: 40 lines |