To load a cause, which prudence asks and care,
With nonsense borrowed from the Attorney’s pen.
Far from the hope of sharing in the strife,
Their wearied minds to other objects stray
To that glad moment when with fork and knife,
They keep their eager jaws at last in play.
Yet e’en in court, some slight relief to gain,
Small slips of paper, torn from foolscap nigh,
Which wretched rhymes and pointless puns contain,
From hand to hand across the table fly.