In true tradition we twelve men declare ourselves to be
Unbiased, just and quite sincere – we swear it solemnly
We concentrate for hours on end, our ears and eyes are glued
To Prosecution and Defence [ each acting out a feud ]
We ask ourselves: does this man lie? We guess we’ll never know
And as the minutes pass we feel confusion grow and grow
When his Defence is summing up we wonder: can it be
That he is talking of the rogue who’s clear for all to see?
Then each of us is having doubts: could it be I was wrong?
Too soon the judge is telling us it shouldn’t take too long
We file out like a flock of sheep and all eyes are on us
And then begins our duty task; we sit down to discuss
Each one of us is mystified by others’ point of view
But we must come to some decision, we twelve men so true
Consulting notes we’re in accord: a crime occurred that day
But did exhibit A or B take part in this foul play?
We talk for hours, we talk for days, we ponder and we hear
We make decisions, change our minds and yet our duty’s clear
Why do we keep resisting truth? Why must we hesitate?
Why don’t we give our verdict? Have we doubt enough to wait?
For most of us the problem’s this: supposing we were wrong…
Supposing he were innocent – to whom would blame belong?
But for one juror this means naught; he knows he’s right and so
His only reason for delay – he’s nowhere else to go
Before this case his life was dull, his future looks the same
Why then should he precipitate the closing of this game?
But urged on by the rest of us he plays his master stroke
And with a grin says: I admit, I’m cousin to that bloke
Mouths open wide, we gasp and stare. How dare he tell us so?
For now we true eleven men must let the villain go
Who was it said the law’s an ass? – I heartily agree
And yet I must confess since then I sleep more easily
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