What do you mean it’s written?

It’s in the transcript, they say,

It’s all legalese, all file-encased.

But what about what was said?

O don’t bother with that,

Hearsay, they say, isn’t acceptable.

Got to be in the transcript,

Thereby perceptible.

I hate the courts, I do,

Those wooden hammers,

deathly clamour!

A transcript they say,

Legalese of a copper,

Yet holds the unholy at bay.

O Courts, do grant a Stay,

And save the day.

Come what may, this sheet,

the Transcript, find we must,

To set right, what is just,

For me, or you perhaps?

To defend, even if pretend.

A transcript, ‘tis not an app,

Legit acetin, I daresay,

That would elapse.