Original Poetry.

Evening Star, Issue 3600, 5 September 1874, Page 2

Original Poetry.

THE MAGISTRATE’S COURT. The wise and discerning Who wish To be learning Sad lessons of life in the world’s busy school, Must leave the great ocean Of' strife and commotion. And mix with the dregs in humanity’s pobL We’re all of us fellows (At least so they tell us), Life's channels all lead to the same snystio port, * And those who would study The depths that are muddy Should visit each morning the Magistrate 1 * Court. • . - Come in my proud lady. That ruffian so shady Is only a thief who has got in a mesa; Consider, dear madam, We’ve all sprupg from Adam, And this is a‘ daughter! 6f Evs'm distresa. On those wretched facps There yet remain traces Of God s early stamp; but now sin, dla mart. Has taken possession And stained the impression— The devil’s own not is the Magistrate’s Court. Those creatures so needy, So shabby and seedy, Who tremble and shake ’neath the Magistrate’s frown; At one time were jolly, But vice, crime, and folly Robbed conscience of peace, and pulled ter down. And now they are handed Down here to be branded* As drunkards and thieves in the daily report, Those gents who are writing Are briefly inditing The chronicles the Magistrate’s Court, • At times there is joking, , And fun mirth-provoking, When lawyers are teasing some soatterbrain’d IIOWB. Who stammers and'splutters Each sentence he utters, With scarcely five bob's worth of sense in his crown. The legal gents funny, , Who badger for money, Are often nonplussed by a witty retort. *pme-comical figures,Fools, swipers,’ and 'pHggera, Are gathered each day in the Magistrate's Court, K constable fetches tt t ®°We poor little wretches—unfortunate waifs he has found on his beat s Some villain inhuman, Or cold-blooded woman. Had left the poor starvelings to die on the street. Ye mends of Christ’s mission. The road to perdition Is far from the heathen—from us it is short • Ye priests and ye teachers, ’ Ye parsons and preachers. There’s work to be done in the Magistrate’s vourt. Thomas Bbaokbn.