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Poem	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.
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