 | The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HONORS' WORSHIPS
FOR THE SUFFOLK BAR ASSOCIATION
JANUARY 8, 1879
May it please your Honors' Worships, since I'm on the witness stand,
I will speak the truth—So help me! See, I'm holding up my hand!
I'm a Doctor, not a Lawyer,—I'm aware it's very queer,
And the Court has asked the question How a Doctor came in here.
I will speak the truth—So help me! See, I'm holding up my hand!
I'm a Doctor, not a Lawyer,—I'm aware it's very queer,
And the Court has asked the question How a Doctor came in here.
Now I hope you will believe him; he will try to be exact—
How he came here is the question, for he can't deny the fact;
Every minute he's been listening for a general scream and shout
Here's a wolf among the lambkins—throw him over! turn him out!
How he came here is the question, for he can't deny the fact;
Every minute he's been listening for a general scream and shout
Here's a wolf among the lambkins—throw him over! turn him out!
Don't be scared! He can't do mischief, even were he so inclined,
For he comes without his weapons—he has left them all behind—
His decoctions, his infusions, all his plasters, all his pills,
All his lotions, all his potions, all his vaccinating quills.
For he comes without his weapons—he has left them all behind—
His decoctions, his infusions, all his plasters, all his pills,
All his lotions, all his potions, all his vaccinating quills.
It's himself that shakes and shivers, as full well indeed he may,
When he sees the Law all round him in its terrible array,
With its warrants, its indictments, its presentments and its writs,
And its sheriffs and its constables that scare folks into fits.
When he sees the Law all round him in its terrible array,
With its warrants, its indictments, its presentments and its writs,
And its sheriffs and its constables that scare folks into fits.
How he came here is the question; he had said so once before,
But the Law loves repetition up to twenty times or more;
'Tis the question How he came here, or to make it still more plain,
Here he came and How's the question; thus he states the case again.
But the Law loves repetition up to twenty times or more;
'Tis the question How he came here, or to make it still more plain,
Here he came and How's the question; thus he states the case again.
He was brought in on a capias, he would have you understand,
And the mandate is no exeat until he shows his hand
So he opens it before you; keep your places! pray be calm!
'Tis a strange sight for you lawyers; there is nothing in its palm!
And the mandate is no exeat until he shows his hand
So he opens it before you; keep your places! pray be calm!
'Tis a strange sight for you lawyers; there is nothing in its palm!
There may have been some blunder, such as magistrates will make,
It may need a writ of error, if we find there's a mistake,
But the jurists and the medicine-men their phrases so have fixed
That there is some little reason why their callings should get mixed.
362
But the jurists and the medicine-men their phrases so have fixed
That there is some little reason why their callings should get mixed.
Take an action of ejectment—'tis the commonest of things—
In a case of over-feeding just that same your doctor brings,
And the lawyer, vice versa, in the courts of ancient time
Wrote prescriptions for his clients how to purge themselves—of crime.
In a case of over-feeding just that same your doctor brings,
And the lawyer, vice versa, in the courts of ancient time
Wrote prescriptions for his clients how to purge themselves—of crime.
How many learned counsellors, with Digests on their shelves,
Go complaining to their doctors that they can't digest, themselves!
When you talk of Magna Charta, I should like to ask of you
What without their Habeas corpus poor anatomists would do?
Go complaining to their doctors that they can't digest, themselves!
When you talk of Magna Charta, I should like to ask of you
What without their Habeas corpus poor anatomists would do?
But my scroll is growing, lengthening, and you're asking for relief
From a paper that resembled what a lawyer calls his brief,
And of all the calm assumptions the coolest one by far
Were to say “I do the talking for the deaf-mutes of the Bar.”
From a paper that resembled what a lawyer calls his brief,
And of all the calm assumptions the coolest one by far
Were to say “I do the talking for the deaf-mutes of the Bar.”
What's a Doctor's or Professor's to a jury-lawyer's tongue?
'Tis a pitch-pipe to a fog-horn; tis a spigot to a bung;
Says a Doctor to a patient “Run your tongue out to the roots;”
To a jury-lawyer never, for it reaches to his boots!
'Tis a pitch-pipe to a fog-horn; tis a spigot to a bung;
Says a Doctor to a patient “Run your tongue out to the roots;”
To a jury-lawyer never, for it reaches to his boots!
I am honest, though I say so; I am modest, that is clear;
Do you ask to know the reason; Well, I studied Law a year.
So I've said my say, Your Honor, and you gentry of the Laws,
And await my jury's verdict.—Please to call another cause.
Do you ask to know the reason; Well, I studied Law a year.
So I've said my say, Your Honor, and you gentry of the Laws,
And await my jury's verdict.—Please to call another cause.
| The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |