Justice To Be Denied?

Hello, is Ginni Thomas there?
It’s you? Tim Hutchens on the line.
I know full well it isn’t fair
To call on weekends before nine.
But all the night I couldn’t sleep
And figured you were wide awake.
You’d left a message at the beep
Just shortly following daybreak
One Saturday to try and get
Anita Hill’s delayed regret.

Apology for “why you did,
What you did with” husband Clarence.
But which time? While she was amid:
Testimony? Office dalliance?
In either case, why now pursue,
If cuckolded (cuckqueened) or not?
That is, if what Hill said was true
Or just subpoenaed poppy-rot,
Unless at last you feel abused
And want to see your mate accused.

Now comes one Lillian McEwen,
Who’s got a book in which she’s sworn,
While singing much Anita’s tune,
Of Clarence’s embrace of porn.
Each woman’s resumé is fraught.
They’re both familiar with the law
McEwen has practiced, Hill has taught,
Which might be sticking in your craw.
Were they the ones who misbehaved?
More likely your old man’s depraved.