All the libel lawyers will tell you there's no libel any more, that everyone's given up.
quote by Ian Hislop
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Jacob Homnium’s Hoss
One sees in Viteall Yard,
Vere pleacemen do resort,
A wenerable hinstitute,
'Tis call'd the Pallis Court.
A gent as got his i on it,
I think 'twill make some sport.
The natur of this Court
My hindignation riles:
A few fat legal spiders
Here set spin their viles;
To rob the town theyr privlege is,
In a hayrea of twelve miles.
The Judge of this year Court
Is a mellitary beak,
He knows no more of Lor
Than praps he does of Greek,
And prowides hisself a deputy
Because he cannot speak.
Four counsel in this Court—
Misnamed of Justice—sits;
These lawyers owes their places to
Their money, not their wits;
And there's six attornies under them,
As here their living gits.
These lawyers, six and four,
Was a livin at their ease,
A sendin of their writs abowt,
And droring in the fees,
When their erose a cirkimstance
As is like to make a breeze.
It now is some monce since,
A gent both good and trew
Possest an ansum oss vith vich
He didn know what to do:
Peraps he did not like the oss;
Peraps he was a scru.
This gentleman his oss
At Tattersall's did lodge;
There came a wulgar oss-dealer,
This gentleman's name did fodge,
And took the oss from Tattersall's
Wasn that a artful dodge?
One day this gentleman's groom
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Canto the First
I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.
II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.
IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.
V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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The Bellaires
The good Bellaires
Do not understand the conduct of this world's affairs.
In fact they understood them so badly
That they have had to cross the Channel.
Nine lawyers, four counsels, five judges and three
proctors of the King,
Together with the respective wives, husbands, sisters
and heterogeneous connections of the good Bellaires,
Met to discuss their affairs;
But the good Bellaires have so little understood their
affairs
That now there is no one at all
Who can understand any affair of theirs. Yet
Fourteen hunters still eat in the stables of
The good Squire Bellaire;
But these may not suffer attainder,
For they may not belong to the good Squire Bellaire
But to his wife.
On the contrary, if they do not belong to his wife,
He will plead
A 'freedom from attainder'
For twelve horses and also for twelve boarhounds
From Charles the Fourth;
And a further freedom for the remainder
Of horses, from Henry the Fourth.
But the judges,
Being free of mediaeval scholarship,
Will pay no attention to this,
And there will be only the more confusion,
Replevin, estoppel, espavin and what not.
Nine lawyers, four counsels, etc.,
Met to discuss their affairs,
But the sole result was bills
From lawyers to whom no one was indebted,
And even the lawyers
Were uncertain who was supposed to be indebted to
them.
Wherefore the good Squire Bellaire
Resides now at Agde and Biaucaire,
To Carcassonne, Pui, and Alais
He fareth from day to day,
Or takes the sea air
Between Marseilles
And Beziers.
And for all this I have considerable regret,
For the good Bellaires
Are very charming people.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Perverted Progress story poem which became a rant
The bards are dead and none recall
the glory days, when every hall.
Would echo to their epic tales
and hear the news they would regale
The ancient bards were men of law
They were welcomed at every door.
A peasant’s cot or chieftains hall
it made no difference at all.
They were accorded great respect
as arbiters as you’d expect.
These minstrels wise in Brehon Law
and holders of the magic lore.
All men were treated equally
and their decisions seen to be
delivered so impartially.
The way that justice ought to be.
No man could buy their loyalty
They were all that they claimed to be.
Men of prodigious memory
who could judge - impartially.
The rights and wrongs of any cause
and had the power to enforce.
Such was the power of Brehon law
which ruled the land in days of yore.
But time moves on and all things change
invaders come and re arrange.
The world to suit their foreign ways.
The bards refused to sing their praise.
So they were hunted down and killed
This left a gap which would be filled
by lawyers of a different sort.
Corrupt men who could be bought.
By those who had he greatest wealth
Well versed in lies deceit and stealth
Although professing probity.
Behind the scenes where none could see.
These lawyers aided thievery
and favoured those of high degree.
Against the poor but honest men
who had their lands and goods taken.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.
Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The only real lawyers are trial lawyers, and trial lawyers try cases to juries.
quote by Clarence Darrow
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Mona Lisas & Mad Hatters
And now I know
Spanish harlem arent just
Pretty words to say
I thought I knew
But now I know
That rose trees never grow
In new york city
Until youve seen
This trash can dream come true
Stand at the edge
Have people run you through
I thank the lord
Theres people out there like you
I thank the lord
Theres people out there like you
While mona lisas and mad hatters
Sons of bankers sons of lawyers
Turn around and say
Good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But the cant and that is why
They know not if its
Dark outside or light
This broadways got
Got a lot of songs to sing and
If I knew the tunes
I might join in
Ill go my way alone
Grow my own
My own seed shall be sown
In new york city
Subways no way
For this good man to go down
Rich man can ride
And the hobo he can drown
I thank the lord
For the people I have found
I thank the lord
For the people I have found
While mona lisas and mad hatters
Sons of bankers sons of lawyers
Turn around and say
Good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But the cant and that is why
They know not if its
Dark outside or light
And now I know
Spanish harlem arent just
Pretty words to say
[...] Read more
song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lawyers In Love
I cant keep up with whats been going on
I think my heart must just be slowing down
Among the human beings in their designer jeans
Am I the only one who hears the screams
And the strangled cries of lawyers in love
God sends his spaceships to america, the beautiful
They land at six oclock and there we are, the dutiful
Eating from tv trays, tuned into to happy days
Waiting for world war iii while jesus slaves
To the mating calls of lawyers in love
Last night I watched the news from washington, the capitol
The russians escaped while we werent watching them, like russians will
Now weve got all this room, weve even got the moon
And I hear the u.s.s.r. will be open soon
As vacation land for lawyers in love
song performed by Jackson Browne
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Apologies
The general offered
No apologies
He said the soldiers erred in judgement
They should have hired a hooker
No apologies
To the outraged japanese
No sorry little girl
The pigs just took her
Tireskids and teethmarks
What happened to this place?
Lawyers and loan sharks
Are laying america to waste
Freddie said that juan thinks, I think
Hes the devil
What a lofty title
For such a petty little tyrant
Bigger beasts abound
And they kick this world around
At this crazy speed
With violence and greed
Tireskids and teethmarks
What happened to this place?
Lawyers and loan sharks
Are laying america to waste
So what makes a man a man
In these tough times
As druglords buy up the banks
And warlords radiate the oceans
Ecosystems fail
Snakes and snails and puppy tails
Are wagging in the womb
Beneath the trampled moon
Tireskids and teethmarks
What happened to this place?
Lawyers and loan sharks
Are laying america to waste
The general offered
No apologies
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im A Monster
Am I a bad guy?
Am I a bad soul?
My eyes roll backward
My head fell forward
We want the vampires
They want the daylight
Undecided if we will feel it
All the lies and fantasies I picked to deny what is right
as the lawyers lie down to the sound of a broken man clinging
to the legs of a butterfly.
We live to see our children die,
turn to the bright to describe what we never will find,
I'm a monster singing through the side of a left eye
And I will pay for, and I will pay for,
I couldn't have her,I couldn't save her,
If I could grab on, I'd pull the ......
All the lies and fantasies I picked to deny what is right
as the lawyers lie down to the sound of a broken man clinging
to the legs of a butterfly, of a butterfly
We live to see our children die,
turn to the light to describe what we never will find,
I'm a vampire clinging to the sounds for a fast high.
All the lies and fantasies I picked to describe what is right
as the lawyers lie down to the sound of a broken man clinging
to the legs of a butterfly.
I live to see our children die,
turn to the bright to describe what we never will find,
I'm a monster singing through the sigh of a left high.
song performed by Ours
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Legatee
In fair San Francisco a good man did dwell,
And he wrote out a will, for he didn't feel well.
Said he: 'It is proper, when making a gift,
To stimulate virtue by comforting thrift.'
So he left all his property, legal and straight,
To 'the cursedest rascal in all of the State.'
But the name he refused to insert, for, said he:
'Let each man consider himself legatee.'
In due course of time that philanthropist died,
And all San Francisco, and Oakland beside-
Save only the lawyers-came each with his claim,
The lawyers preferring to manage the same.
The cases were tried in Department Thirteen,
Judge Murphy presided, sedate and serene,
But couldn't quite specify, legal and straight,
The cursedest rascal in all of the State.
And so he remarked to them, little and big-
To claimants: 'You skip!' and to lawyers: 'You dig!'
They tumbled, tumultuous, out of his court
And left him victorious, holding the fort.
'Twas then that he said: 'It is plain to my mind
This property's ownerless-how can I find
The cursedest rascal in all of the State?'
So he took it himself, which was legal and straight.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Mirrors Of Our Time
THE ECONOMY is a hose.
The Government collects water from the people
and pours it into the top of the hose
and gives it back to the people.
Near the top of the hose is a hole.
A lot of the water pours out of this into a tank
marked Government which is always empty.
The rest flows down towards the people.
It passes other holes marked
Government Agencies
Government buildings
Government contingencies
Government perks
There are also holes marked
Lawyers
Accountants
Criminals.
The Government is always trying
to stop these last three holes.
Finally what is left of the water
reaches people at the end of the hose.
The people fight over it
(it is never enough) .
When they get very thirsty they start
to throw stones at the government
and threaten to sack them.
The government then reluctantly
pours more water into the top of the hose
(which they get from the people) .
Finally when the people are very thirsty indeed,
under the leadership of the
Lawyers
Accountants
and other Criminals,
they attack the tank marked Government
and break it open.
It is always empty.
Then many of the people die
(except for the Lawyers, Accountants
and other Criminals.)
The survivors go off and look for a new well,
drink as much as they can
as quickly as they can
and wait for a new Government to find them.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Lawyer's Paradise
Some times law is very confusing
System of courts is quite amusing,
The cases are not disposed off fast
So significance of the justice is lost.
One or for other reason day after day
Months and years, cases are delayed.
Justice seekers wait long in the process
Pay for being victim of the dilatoriness.
Lawyers get adjournment every time
And charge to their clients per diem.
Some times to harass the opposition
Take adjournment for flimsy reason.
Many clients are poor and uneducated
Pay for justice and wait time unlimited.
The client suffers by adjournment practice
And unfortunately fall victim to injustice.
Some lawyers are habitual of adjournment
Some Continue meaningless argument;
For each adjournment client has to pay
Lawyer extract money, clients face delay.
Courts which do not timely decide
Are the places of lawyers paradise.
(c) S.D.Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Legalization Of Waterboarding?
walk not a torturous road to justice?
make not evil lawful within the state
as Nazi Germany did walk not this road
issue no torture warrant to legalize crime
as Nazi Germany legalized mass murder
allow torture to be clinically supervised?
assign observer proper medical monitoring
duty to determine control quality of torture?
guard against torture life-threatening?
duty of trained medical professionals?
officially provide for doctors to treat
the tortured God help this tortured soul
as doctors patch you up to endure more
torture during and after torture ordeal?
would you hang observing head in shame?
George W Bush Loves Waterboarding
George spoke of authorization in memoirs
how his lawyers told him it was legal to
systematically repeatedly drown suspects
innocent but presumed guilty without trial
Amnesty International and Geneva Conventions
disagree with your lawyers ignoring laws George
but my lawyers assured me it benefits our society
but Eve said it was good but Satan said souls will
positively not die thieves are so happy until caught
somebody has stolen right to be tried in impartial court?
right to be held in a prison cell not a humiliation cage?
do you not know sowing hate seeds strengthens enemies?
recruitment soars evil grows holds us at bay by the throat?
Lord is it not written “return evil to no one” it is written!
“Do not avenge yourselves, beloved, but yield place
to the wrath; for it is written: “Vengeance is mine;
I will repay, says Jehovah.” But, “if your enemy is
hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something
to drink; for by doing this you will heap fiery coals upon
his head.” “Do not let yourself be conquered by the evil,
but keep conquering the evil with good.” Romans 12: 17-21.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Rich Tastes
Conviction notice
duly served today?
Another cost in poverty
left we learn we pay?
Owner daughter of Salat
Oil Company owner.
Land, property, factories...
count corpulent rest.
Spent five thousand alone
on single exquisite dress.
Destitution causes no heiress distress
estates are insured articles manifest.
Broken contract agreement
rewritten by ophidian woman’s greed,
stress mental torture plague less;
if for privileged privation families’ need.
High calibre company lawyers bribe,
break shred Rental Contract.
Smooth financial fraudulent judge deal,
collateral stacked at bat.
Invade home invade personal family
privacy; oppose sanctuary pauper’s flat.
Buy sell lives, present future, manipulations
accomplished easily, bribe binding seals.
Lack of victim retaliatory finance,
deflates right of an innocent appeal.
Ground down renter, swiftly struck down, falls
under owner’s polished, BMW wheels.
Power rich typhoon connected, amasses,
in Istanbul discerning, citizens chillingly read.
Human rights violations. Collective
administratively pressed, under rampant heel.
Heard not from Penthouse Heights
justice but a pleading violated squeal.
Owner’s Lawyers, foolishly tried to tell.
Flat rented as fully furnished
telephone appliances all mod cons.
Corrupted lawyers, obsequious swine liars,
striving to move fragile family out!
To gain commission, from inflated buyer!
Trying to sell us, for a sucker’s song?
Perhaps incompetent unprepared professionals?
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Tiger's Rumour and other Parodies William Blake - The Tyger
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immoral hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
on what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
in what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred spiteful deadly [t]errors’ [g]asp?
11 December 1991 revised 18 September 2009 robi3_0504_blak1_0003 PXX_JXX for previous version see below
Parody William BLAKE 1757_1827 The Tyger
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immortal hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
On what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
In what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred them deadly, errors’ [g]asp?
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Tyger's Eye - after William Blake
Tyger's Eye
Tyger Tyger, once again
we'll praise your uncontested reign
where golden eye implies rebirth,
of jungle lord's word none constrain.
From distant deeps of tropic skies.
to forests sparse where eagle flies,
your power ripples round world's girth -
how could it e'er be otherwise?
Strength in each and every part
needs no paltry poet's art
to illustrate your peerless worth
which rhymes through time in class apart.
Neither hammer, chain, may blind
furnace features, anvil mind,
you represent upon this Earth
both force and freedom none may bind.
[c] Jonathan Robin - parody William Blake written 27 June 2008 robi3_1775_blak1_0003 PXX_CNX
___________
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, and what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! and what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Ghost - Book IV
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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Doctors are the same as lawyers; the only difference is that lawyers merely rob you, whereas doctors rob you and kill you too.
quote by Anton Chekhov
Added by Lucian Velea
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