His wig is crisp, and gray, and full,
And if his face you scan,
'Tis furrow'd deep with lines of thought;
'Twere hard his brow to span.
And he looks the whole world in the face,
For he fears not any man.
Term in, term out, from ten till four,
You can hear his accents clear;
You can hear him crush deceit and fraud
With authority severe,