Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 168

THE SHAFTER SHAFTED

Well, James McMillan Shafter, you're a Judge— At least you were when last I knew of you;And if the people since have made you budge I did not notice it. I've much to do Without endeavoring to follow, throughThe miserable squabbles, dust and smudge,The fate of even the veteran contendersWho fight with flying colors and suspenders.Being a Judge, 'tis natural and wrong That you should villify the public press—Save while you are a candidate. That song Is easy quite to sing, and I confess It wins applause from hearers who have lessOf spiritual graces than belongTo audiences of another kidney—Men, for example, like Sir Philip Sidney.Newspapers, so you say, don't always treat The Judges with respect. That may be soAnd still no harm done, for I swear I'll eat My legs and in the long hereafter go, Snake-like, upon my belly if you'll showAll Judges are respectable and sweet.For some of them are rogues and the world's laughter'sDirected at some others, for they're Shafters.