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152. Extempore in the Court of Session

 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.

Poem by Robert Burns
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