152. Extempore In The Court Of Session Poem by Robert Burns

LORD ADVOCATEHE clenched his pamphlet in his fist,
He quoted and he hinted,
Till, in a declamation-mist,
His argument he tint it:
He gapèd for't, he grapèd for't,
He fand it was awa, man;
But what his common sense came short,
He eked out wi' law, man.


MR. ERSKINECollected, Harry stood awee,
Then open'd out his arm, man;
His Lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e,
And ey'd the gathering storm, man:
Like wind-driven hail it did assail'
Or torrents owre a lin, man:
The BENCH sae wise, lift up their eyes,
Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man.