It must be confessed that
this gentleman appears to be more bilious than brave.
* * * * *
[Illustration: AS TIBBS HAS OFTEN REMARKED TO MRS. T.: "IT ISN'T HIS
DISPOSITION TO SHIRK ANY LITTLE DOMESTIC DUTY, BUT HOW ABOUT MEETING
ONE'S BACHELOR ACQUAINTANCES, YOU KNOW?"]
SONG OF THE CHICAGO LAWYER.
Divorces, Ho! Divorces!
Ye sorry lords, come one and all!
Afflicted wives, come at my call!
I have a balm for all the smarts
And pains of unrequited hearts;
I have a cure for every ill
That matrimonial feuds instil--
Come ye unto my call!
Here, pretty one!
I know your lord refused to buy
That velvet dress, no reason why--
He is a brute! There, do not cry,
I'll drive the tear-drop from your eye,
And you again, fair one, shall be
From such a selfish thraldom free--
Take courage, then--look up!
This way, good sir--
Is raging, wild insanity;
Ha! ha! my friend, is that the plea?
Oh, well, we've doctors by the score
Will prove it twenty times, or more,
Or, if it may His Honor please,
Will swear the moon is made of cheese--
Come on, good sir, come on!
Good morning, pious friend!
You wish for ministerial aid
To prove the flaws? Be not afraid--
The ministerial conscience leads
Sometimes to proving of misdeeds,
Which less exalted minds would hold
It nobler to have left untold;
But duty, sir, is stern.
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