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The Case of the Missing Cookies


The Case of the Missing Cookies

I'm taking my parents to court
to prove I'm an innocent kid.
The judge will most surely agree
that they're wrong about what I did.

Just because all my fingers were sticky
and chocolate was on my face,
doesn't mean I stole those cookies.
So there! I rest my case.

What's that you say, you need more proof?
I have an alibi.
When the cookies got stolen, I was outside.
Now I ask you, why would I lie?

You have no witnesses on your side;
just circumstantial lies.
I think the real crook snuck inside
in a masterful disguise.

Maybe he was disguised as me.
I really cannot say.
All I know is I did not
steal any cookies that day.

Now judge, I ask for sympathy,
so please instruct the jury
to say that I'm not guilty
(and to say it in a hurry!)

My folks are looking quite annoyed
that I've taken things this far.
But it's not as if they caught me
with my hands in the cookie jar.

The jury's back, the verdict's in.
Guilty?! That can't be!
I gathered all the evidence
that should have set me free.

Where did I go wrong, and now
what will my sentence be?
Three years of washing dishes, no!
No way! They can't mean me!

The next time I take my parents to court
(though I doubt it will be in my youth)
I'll make sure that what I'm saying
is actually the truth.

(C) 1998, Arden Davidson

I am trying to find a publisher or agent
to represent any or all of the stories and poems
in "A Pocketful of Rhymes".
If you know anyone that can help, or have comments,
please e-mail me.Thanks!