A LAWYER’S CHORTLE
(A long way after “The Throstle”)
Vacation is over, vacation is over,
I know it, I know it, I know it.
Back to the Strand again, home to the Courts again,
Come counsel and clients to go it.
Welcome awaits you, High Court of Justice,
Thousands will flock to you daily.
“You, you, you, you.” Is it then for you,
That we forget the Old Bailey?
Jostling and squeezing and struggling and shoving,
What else were the Courts ever made for?
The Courts ’twixt the Temple and grey Lincoln’s Inn,
They’re not yet entirely paid for!
Now till next year, all of us cry,
We’ll say (for a fee) what we’re bidden.
Vacation is over, is over, hurrah!
And all past sorrow is hidden.
The Female Prerogative Court.—A woman’s will knows no codicil.
The best place for a Police-office.—Beak Street.
Criminal.—Why is a prisoner’s time like an abominable joke? Because it’s past in durance.
HOW THINGS WILL OUT
(The judge is not at home, and Brown, Q.C., asks permission to write him a note)
Mary Elizabeth Jane. “Would you like this book, sir? Master always uses it when he writes letters!”
[Heavens! it’s an English dictionary!