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THE CRIME

Birds of a Feather, or Trial by Fury.

There is grandeur in the growling of the gale. There is eloquent out-pouring When the Record is a-roaring,

And the Tiger is a-lashing of his fail.

"There was vigor in the old Lampoon. There was search for rowdy storm and stress, But the dignified new workers Of the lime-light have been shirkers.

And have never been in any kind of mess.

"Now justice has a splendor that is grim.

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(Though law-suits only terrify the dolts.) So, in spite of recent meekness, We have kept a hidden weakness:

"P is a passion for the insert thunderbolts"

II.

Bark, the hour of trial is sounding: Lampy's anxious fears are bounding.

On the side-door, crowds are pounding, Breathing hope and fear.

(Lampy had us by the collar, If they'd given each a dollar, Justice would have raised a holler, We'd have paid her dear.)

The jury:

"With a sense of deep emotion, We approach this painful case;

For we have a sneaking notion, That the plaintiff missed first base.

"Pity, then, the Evarts-client, Victim of a heartless wile!

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