On Circuit.

A poem by Horace Smith

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.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'On Circuit.' by Horace Smith

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy