I am thinking I’ll be hauled off to prison
after jury votes.
Could be lookin’ at five to ten
years deep inside the pen,
where everyone’s wearing gray pants and coats.

I am thinking I’ll be hauled off to prison—
that’s what I’m in for.
I got caught in a felony; jury will be tellin’ me:
slammed will be the door

Though I’ve brought along a dude who’s polite, never rude
to plead my case before the bench.
He smoothly talks, but the jury seems fraught,
so with sweat my forehead is drenched.
I’ve got a feeling I’ll be breaking rocks,
digging a trench.

I am thinking I’ll be hauled off to prison
after jury votes.
Won’t be going to a hotel
but to a dark, dank cell
with sturdy iron bars, cellmate who dotes.

I am thinking I’ll be hauled off to prison—
foreman’s voice is tart.
Rancorous is the vocal sting;
in my ears judge’s voice rings:
“Your long sentence starts!”