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Poem by Robert Burns


Extempore in the Court of Session


        LORD ADVOCATE.

HE clenchd his pamphlets in his fist,
  He quoted and he hinted,
Till in a declamation-mist,
  His argument he tint it:
He gaped fort, he graped fort,
  He fand it was awa, man;
But what his common sense came short,
  He eked out wi law, man.

        MR. ERSKINE.

Collected Harry stood awee,
  Then opend out his arm, man;
His lordship sat wi ruefu ee,
  And eyed the gathering storm, man:
Like wind-drivn hail it did assail,
  Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench sae wise, lift up their eyes,
  Half-waukend wi the din, man.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Theres News, Lasses
  2. Scroggam
  3. The Toast
  4. Where are the Joys
  5. My Wifes a Winsome Wee Thing


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