Time: Mon Apr 14 03:40:55 1997 by primenet.com (8.8.5/8.8.5) with ESMTP id DAA24184; Mon, 14 Apr 1997 03:32:12 -0700 (MST) by usr09.primenet.com (8.8.5/8.8.5) with SMTP id DAA21110; Mon, 14 Apr 1997 03:31:58 -0700 (MST) Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 03:39:26 -0700 To: (Recipient list suppressed) From: Paul Andrew Mitchell [address in tool bar] Subject: SLS: April Fools Night (fwd) <snip> > > APRIL FOOLS NIGHT > >T'was the night before tax day > and all through the nation, >Tax slaves had stopped filing, > Oh! What a sensation. > >1040's were burned > in the chimneys with care >Giving the tax thieves > a terrible scare. > >Patriots were resting > all snug in their beds, >While visions of freedom > danced in their heads. > >I was reading the code book, > the IRS bible, >which says no one is required > who has not been made liable. > >When out in the street > there arose such a clatter, >I sprang from my chair > to see what was the matter. > >Away to the window > I flew like a flash, >Tore open the shutter > and threw up the sash. > >The full moon shining > through the Sycamore tree >created deep dark shadows > making it hard to see. > >Then what to my wondering eyes > should appear, >But a swat van of IRS "men" > all trembling with fear. > >The little old driver > all grimy and slick, >I knew in an instant > it must be agent nick. > >As sneaky as a rattle snake, > with his cronies he came, >He hushed and whispered > as he called them by name. > >Now Judas, now Benedict > Now Robber and Bum, >Come Burglar, come liar > come all of you scum. > >Onto my lawn he came > onto the dewey wetted grass, >He tripped on the lawn rake > and fell on his, er ah! ear. > >He pulled himself up > and shouted with zeal, >I will not be daunted > on my mission to steal. > >Then onto my porch > all the cronies they flew >Their satchels full of summonses > and their pistols in view. > >And then in a twinkling > a loud knock at the door, >And weak trembling voices > wishing they were more. > >As I opened the door > I heard not a sound. >There stood agent Nick > looking down at the ground. > >A bundle of forms > he had in his hand, >And he looked for sure > like a real publican > >His eyes how they blinked! > dimples, he had none, >His cheeks were sagging > like one who'd never had fun. > >He had a Bureaucrat's face > and a big pot belly >That hung over his belt > like a sack full of jelly > >With a blink of his eye > and a twist of his head >My rights, from a card > he hurriedly read. > >He began asking questions > as he went right to work. >I asserted my rights > and didn't answer the jerk. > >I said "never made liable" > looking straight in his eye, >He turned pale and trembled > as if he would die. > >He sprang to his van, > to his cronies gave a call, >And away they all fled > agent Nick and all. > >But I heard them screaming > as they sped out of sight, >"Down with that constitution > and all of those rights". > <snip> [This Free[h] poem monitored by the Federal Bureau of Investitures] ======================================================================== Paul Andrew, Mitchell, B.A., M.S. : Counselor at Law, federal witness email: [address in tool bar] : Eudora Pro 3.0.1 on Intel 586 CPU web site: http://www.supremelaw.com : library & law school registration ship to: c/o 2509 N. Campbell, #1776 : this is free speech, at its best Tucson, Arizona state : state zone, not the federal zone Postal Zone 85719/tdc : USPS delays first class w/o this ========================================================================
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