Tom Bumpkin was a thriving man,
As all the world could see;
In forty years he’d raised himself
From direst poverty.

And now he rented from the Squir
Some acres, near a score;
Some people said ’twas twenty-five,
And some that it was more.

He had a sow of rare brave breed,
And nine good pigs had he;
A cow and calf, a rick of hay,
And horses he had three.

And Mrs. Bumpkin had a bull,
The finest creature out;
“And, like a Christian,” so she said,
“It follered her about.”

So Bumpkin was a thriving man,
As all the world could see;
A self-made man, but yet not made
Of scholarship was he.

With neighbour Snooks he dealings had
About his latest farrow;
Snooks said he’d bought a pig, and so,
To prove it, brought his barrow.

Tom said, “It wur to be two crowns;”
Snooks said, “Twur nine-and-six;”
Then Tom observed, “You doan’t ’ave me
Wi none o’ them there tricks.”

So there was battle; Lawyer Prigg
Was told this tale of woe;
The Lawyer rubbed his bony hands
And said, “I see; quite so!”

“A case of trespass,”—“Ay zo ’t be!”
Said Bumpkin, feeling big;
“Now mak un pay vor’t, mak un pay;
It beant so much th’ pig.”

“No, no, it’s not so much the pig,
That were a matter small;
Indeed, good Bumpkin, we may say
It’s not the pig at all!

“It’s more the principle involved,
The rights of man, you see”—
“Ay, ay,” quoth Tom; “the devil’s in’t
’F I beant as good as he.”

There never was a man more prompt
Or swift to strike a blow:
Give but the word, and Charger Prigg
Was down upon the foe.

The Letter, Writ, and Statement went
Like lightning, thunder, rain;
Inspection and Discovery rode
Like Uhlans o’er the plain!

Then Interrogatories flew
Without procrastination:
As when the ambushed outposts give
A deadly salutation.

Now Snooks’s lawyer was a man
To wrong would never pander;
And like a high-souled Pleader drew
A Counterclaim for slander;

And then with cautious skill behind
The legal outworks clambers;
Until dislodged, he held his own
Entrenched in Judges’ Chambers.

At length came battle hot and fierce,
And points reserved as though
The case must be economized,
Not murdered at a blow.

Then came appeals upon the points,
New trials on the facts;
More points, more learned arguments,
More precedents and Acts.

But Law, thou art a tender plant
That needs must droop and die;
And bear no fruit unless thy root
Be watered constantly:

And Bumpkin with a generous hand
Had given thee good supply;
He drained the well, and yet withal
The noble Prigg was dry.

With plaintive look would move a stone,
Tom gazed on Lawyer Prigg:
Who rubbed his hands and said, “You see,
It’s not so much the pig.”

“Noa, noa, it be th’ horses moore,
The calf and sheep and kine,
Where be th’ hay-rick and the straw?
And where thic bull o’ mine?”

The Lawyer said, “Quite so, quite so!”
Looked wise, and wisely grinned;
For Tom was like a ship becalmed,
He stopped for want of wind.

“You see,” said Prigg with gravity
Would almost make you laugh,
“Our leading Counsel had the Cow,
The junior had the Calf.

“The hay and straw Rules nisi got,
Made Absolute with corn,
The pigs made Interrogat’ries,
Most beautifully drawn.

“The Bacon—ah, dear Bumpkin, few
In Law suits ever save it;
It made together with the sow,
A splendid Affidavit.

“The cocks and hens the Pleadings did
Most exquisitely utter;
And some few pans of cream there were,
Which made the Surre-butter.”

“Why, Surrey butter! I’d a tub
The best in this ere nation”—
“Quite so!” said Prigg; “but you forget,
’Twas used in Consultation.”

“Well, well, of all the hungry mouths,
There’s nothing like the Law’s;
No wonder they can talk if that
Be how they iles their jaws.

“Now just look ere; I’d twenty cheese,
The finest of old Cheshires,”—
“Quite so, quite so!” said Prigg; “but they
Just furnished the Refreshers.

“The Ass for the Opinion went;
The Horses, Costs between us;
And all the Ducks and Drakes, my boy,
Were turned into Subpoenas.”

“I zee it all; the road to Ruin,
Straight as any furrer:
That Bull o’ mine”—“Excuse me, Sir,
Went up upon Demurrer.”

“Then beant there nothing left for I,
In all this ere undoin?
Nay, Nance, our fireside be gone,
It’s emptiness and ruin.

“I wish we’d fought un out ourselves
Wi’ fists instead o’ law;
Since Samson fit, there never was
Good fightin wi the jaw.”

So now Tom’s not a thriving man,
He owns not cow or pig;
And evermore he’ll be in debt
To Honest Lawyer Prigg.

bradbury, agnew, & co., printers, whitefriars.