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Rasher Murphy wore his suit, appealing ‘gainst his booking,
Claiming he’d been scythed down, when the ref had not been looking.
He said the video evidence would clear him of all blame,
His sending-off was unjust in the context of the game.
The Committee heard his evidence, and then they all retired,
Asking Rasher could he come back when he was required?
And so, in about an hour or so, they came to a decision,
From studying the incident upon the television.
Rasher came before the court, and stood there smiling meekly.
The Chairman looked up from his notes and glanced at him obliquely.
He was a man of measured words, verbose and quite well-read.
He looked the Rasher in the eye, and this is what he said:
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“The quality of Murphy is unfortunately strained.
We find him innocent upon the charge that he’s arraigned.
A victim of misfortune, undeservedly dismissed,
The other playing feigning he’d been badly Judas-kissed.
However, Mister Murphy, sir, the tape had been wound back
To half an hour before the aforementioned fake attack.
And while we find the sending-off could not be deemed your fault,
What about the spitting, and the very sly assault?
Every time the ref turned round, you kicked your poor opponent.
The evidence is plain to see – you were the main proponent.
And so, your sending-off is automatically rescinded,
No slur upon your name that your antagonist was winded.
But as for all the other stuff, with which you got away,
We suspend you for six matches, and we fine you three weeks pay.”
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Afterwards, reporters from the dailies crowded round,
Asking Rasher if he thought the judgement had been sound.
They questioned him quite closely ‘bout his feelings at the time,
When first he realised the judge was going to speak in rhyme.
Rasher thought a moment and then slowly scratched his nose,
Saying, “You could maybe call it poetic justice, I suppose.”