AIR—­“Three Fishers went Sailing.”

Three attorneys came sailing down Chancery Lane,
   Down Chancery Lane e’er the courts had sat;
They thought of the leaders they ought to retain,
   But the Junior Bar, oh, they thought not of that;
      For serjeants get work and Q.C.’s too,
      And solicitors’ sons-in-law frequently do,
         While the Junior Bar is moaning.

Three juniors sat up in Crown Office Row,
   In Crown Office Row e’er the courts had sat,
They saw the solicitors passing below,
   And the briefs that were rolled up so tidy and fat,
      For serjeants get work, etc.

Three briefs were delivered to Jones, Q.C,
   To Jones, Q.C., e’er the courts had sat;
And the juniors weeping, and wringing their paws,
   Remarked that their business seemed uncommon flat;
      For Serjeants get work and Q.C.’s too,
      But as for the rest it’s a regular “do,”
         And the Junior Bar is moaning.

AIR—­“Give that Wreath to Me”

("Farewell, Manchester").

I.

   Give that brief to me,
      Without so much bother;
   Never let it be
      Given to another. 
   Why this coy resistance? 
   Wherefore keep such distance? 
Why hesitate so long to give that brief to me?

II.

   Should’st thou ever find
      Any counsel willing
   To conduct thy case
      For one pound one shilling;
   Scorn such vulgar tricks, love;
   One pound three and six, love,
Is the proper thing,—­then give that brief to me.

III.

   Should thy case turn out
      Hopeless and delusive,
   Still I’d rave and shout,
      Using terms abusive. 
   Truth and sense might perish,
   Still thy cause I’d cherish,
Hallow’d by thy gold,—­then give that brief to me.

IV.

   Should the learned judge
      Sit on me like fury,
   Still I’d never budge—­
      There’s the British Jury! 
   Should that stay prove rotten,
   Bowen, Brett, and Cotton {143}
Would upset them all,—­then give that brief to me.

ON CIRCUIT.

Two neighbours, fighting for a yard of land;
Two witnesses, who lie on either hand;
Two lawyers, issuing many writs and pleas;
Two clerks, in a dark passage counting fees;
Two counsel, calling one another names;
Two courts, where lawyers play their little games;
Two weeks at Leeds, which wear the soul away;
Two judges getting limper every day;
Two bailiffs of the court with aspect sour—­
So runs the round of life from hour to hour.

AT THE “COCK” TAVERN.