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Poem by Horace Smith On Circuit Two neighbours, fighting for a yard of land; Two witnesses, who lie on either hand; Two lawyers, issuing many writs and pleas; Two clerks, in a dark passage counting fees; Two counsel, calling one another names; Two courts, where lawyers play their little games; Two weeks at Leeds, which wear the soul away; Two judges getting limper every day; Two bailiffs of the court with aspect sour-- So runs the round of life from hour to hour. Horace Smith Horace Smith's other poems:
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