Classic Poem

Young Silas Watkins stole a ham—a theft most reprehensible,
And then engaged a counselor (which certainly was sensible).
They plunged him in a dungeon deep, a dungeon grim and terrorful,
The while his lawyer went to court upon a mission errorful.
And when he found at once the whole proceeding could be “busted,” he
Sued out a habeas corpus and took Silas out of custody.

In court his learned counsel urged with dignified suavity
The dangers of unseemly haste in matters of such gravity.
The prosecution's bitterness he held unjustifiable,
“'Tis Justice, with her blinded eyes, before whom we are triable!”
And after hours of argument, with growing heat and frictional,
He took a change of venue on a question jurisdictional.

Whereat the counsel got a stay of trial for a year or two,
To find a missing witness (who was dead, I have a fear or two).
The years rolled on, they tried him, and unmercifully depicted him
The commonest of larcenists; the jury then convicted him.
“No chance for Silas!” cried his lawyer. “Yes, I say, indeed he has!”
Upon the which he went to court and got a supersedeas.

“Good cheer!” said he to Silas. “You will soon be on your feet again.”
While Silas gave a bail bond and was straightway on the street again.
A monstrous abstract then they filed, the lawyer made a noise and fuss,
Until, within a year or two, the court gave them a syllabus,
Which, stripped of all its verbiage and law and technicality,
But reaffirmed the verdict based on Silas' proved rascality.

“Odds blood!” cried Silas' counsel to his client, “When I've read you this,
You'll see the entire finding simply reeks with flaws and prejudice.
To jail shall any citizen for stealing of a hock be sent?”
Straightway the which he went to court and filed another document.
“No sheriff shall arrest him, sir, on any legal sham as grim
As this, and if a sheriff tries, I'll certainly mandamus him!”

Again upon the solemn court, with masterful urbanity,
He urged a close inquiry by an expert on insanity,
Who felt the bumps on Silas' head, who found profound rascality,
Who in a year made his report of “obvious normality.”
Long Silas' counsel studied it, by methods not revealable,
And finally concluded the decision was appealable.

Good Silas gave another bond to stay his jail processional;
Good Silas' counsel labored with an ardor quite professional,
Until he got an order from the highest court available,
“(That, as the statutes read, there was a question if 'twas jailable,)
The court below should try again, and though they might acquit it, or
Convict it, they must try again”—so stated the remittitur!

The witnesses, those gray old men, recalled the ancient history
Of Silas' crime with halting speech, and deep and dark the mystery
To them of why they were recalled; with quavering tones, in truthfulness
They told again the old, old tale of Silas' erring youthfulness.
The jurors held he could not change his spots, but like the leopard he;
So Silas' counsel straightway held he had been twice in jeopardy.

Alas! So intricate a case, with all the points involvable!
When Death took Silas and to dust found him to be resolvable.
Took him for reasons, good, perhaps, but which were not revealable,
And Silas' counsel found, alack, the judgment not appealable!
But back to court he strode when sure that Charon o'er had ferried him,
And cried: “I want a nol. pros. for my client—we have buried him!”