THE DISCOUNTER'S DIRGE.
A Fragmentary Lament found in the Common Pleas after the recent Trial of "S—mm—ns v. P—rk—ns—n."
SUPPOSED TO BE SLIGHTLY ALTERED FROM CAMPBELL.
"And I could veep," the Oneida Chief's
Caucasian vendor thus begun—
"To hear them Councils, with their briefs,
Traducing of my father's son,
Vith jokes uncommon low.
And that there Judge, vich busts in wrath,
Vich takes no heed of vot he saith,
But stamps a name as sticks till death—
'A Knave.' He called me so,
And all because that Christian boy
Paid somevot dearly for a toy.
"That Hemerald brooch, the vich vas given
By Hingland's Queen to Peel so deep,
I charged but fifty-two eleven,
As I maintains vos really cheap;
They swore the stone was glass,
The bracelet for his gentle Eve,
They called a Oundsditch make-believe,
And said I'd plotted to deceive
The fashionable ass—
Six bills at sight I swore my right.
The jury took vun extra sight.
"My art goes thump. Before me now
That Judge's countenanth appears;
I see him knit a norrid brow.
His vice is thunderin in mine ears;
He puts me in a hawful ole,
He riles me till I'm fit to bust,
He calls my case, from last to first,
About the wilest and the wust
Of vich he's ad control:
And says the union's 'past belief
Of such a Fool,' and 'such a Thief.'"