Classic Poem

A cat of yore — or else old Æsop lied —
Was changed into a fair and blooming bride,
But spied a mouse upon her marriage-day,
Forgot her spouse and seized upon her prey;
Even thus my bridegroom lawyer, as you saw,
Threw off poor me and pounced upon papa.
His neck from Hymen's mystic knot made loose,
He twisted round my sire's the literal noose.
Such are the fruits of our dramatic labor
Since the New Jail became our next-door neighbor.

Yes, times are changed; for in your father's age
The lawyers were the patrons of the stage;
However high advanced by future fate,
There stands the bench [ points to the Pit ] that first received their weight.
The future legal sage 't was ours to see
Doom though unwigged and plead without a fee.

But now, astounding each poor mimic elf,
Instead of lawyers comes the law herself;
Tremendous neighbor, on our right she dwells,
Builds high her towers and excavates her cells;
While on the left she agitates the town
With the tempestuous question, Up or down?
'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis thus stand we,
Law's final end and law's uncertainty.
But, soft! who lives at Rome the Pope must flatter,
And jails and lawsuits are no jesting matter.
Then — just farewell! We wait with serious awe
Till your applause or censure gives the law.
Trusting our humble efforts may assure ye,
We hold you Court and Counsel, Judge and Jury.