And to the jury, we do plaint, Upon a mauling stick, And from our pallets, clap the paint, Around their craniums thick, We mould them from their purpose dense, Like hods of plastic wax, And sculp into their common sense, And then climb down their backs! Our song is done, for we are brief, And we will sing no more,-- And to my own intense relief, I thought they'd take the door, But no! they did not go, and each, Put forth his kidded fist, "While we've been trying thus to teach, Our fees we almost missed! Remember this is Christmas eve, Three Chrismas waits we be, The more the reason you should give, Our consultation fee. We have our instruments, and they Are of the parchment tough, With which we play, while men do pay, We wot we've said enough. And wherefore, and whereas for this, Aforesaid, told to thee, Moreover, we must have, we wis, Our consultation fee. Five guineas unto each of us, Refreshers each, a pound,"-- I rose to kick them into bruss, They bolted through the ground! My future suppers, must be free Of nightmare risk; the cause Of that cantabile of glee, On music, art, and laws; Was merely this, that I did run, The danger of such rig, By feeding on a goose, they hatched, Inside a lawyer's wig. [Illustration] [Illustration: WOMAN'S TEARS.] THE tears were in her eye, Said I "what makes you cry?" And my sympathy was such, that I sighed; For it gives my heart the creep, To see a woman weep,-- Especially the one to be my Bride. "Alas!" said I, "Ah! me, It grieveth me, to see That trickle, at your nostril, by the side." "'Twas the onions, I was cutting," she replied. [Illustration: HERADIC FRUITS OF A FAMILY TREE By A Lyin' KING OF Arms] [Illustration] WHEN Cha, the first, Was run to ground, An Ancestorial Mite was found; By Rails in Pale, At Dexter Chief, From Judges' wig, He pipes his grief. HIS deeds, of later Life, did tend, To prove him of The Sinister Bend; As boozing Charge, He takes his place, From Sinister Chief, To Dexter Base. [Illustration] [Illustration] HIS son, did Charge In Sable Chief, A Sword, or he Had come to grief; That Chief above, From Sinister, part, Has got,--per Fesse-- That Sword in Heart!