Time: Mon Apr 14 03:40:55 1997
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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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