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Ballads

by William Makepeace Thackeray

79 of 86 · Contents · Download EPUB

Jacob Homnium’s Hoss

A New Pallice Court Chant

One sees in Viteall Yard,
  Vere pleacemen do resort,
A wenerable hinstitute,
  ’Tis call’d the Pallis Court.
A gent as got his i on it,
  I think ’twill make some sport.

The natur of this Court
  My hindignation riles:
A few fat legal spiders
  Here set & spin their viles;
To rob the town theyr privlege is,
  In a hayrea of twelve miles.

The Judge of this year Court
  Is a mellitary beak,
He knows no more of Lor
  Than praps he does of Greek,
And prowides hisself a deputy
  Because he cannot speak.

Four counsel in this Court—
  Misnamed of Justice—sits;
These lawyers owes their places to
  Their money, not their wits;
And there’s six attornies under them,
  As here their living gits.

These lawyers, six and four,
  Was a livin at their ease,
A sendin of their writs abowt,
  And droring in the fees,
When their erose a cirkimstance
  As is like to make a breeze.

It now is some monce since,
  A gent both good and trew
Possest an ansum oss vith vich
  He didn know what to do:
Peraps he did not like the oss;
  Peraps he was a scru.

This gentleman his oss
  At Tattersall’s did lodge;
There came a wulgar oss-dealer,
  This gentleman’s name did fodge,
And took the oss from Tattersall’s
  Wasn that a artful dodge?

One day this gentleman’s groom
  This willain did spy out,
A mounted on this oss
  A ridin him about;
“Get out of that there oss, you rogue,”
  Speaks up the groom so stout.

The thief was cruel whex’d
  To find himself so pinn’d;
The oss began to whinny,
  The honest gloom he grinn’d;
And the raskle thief got off the oss
  And cut avay like vind.

And phansy with what joy
  The master did regard
His dearly bluvd lost oss again
  Trot in the stable yard!

Who was this master good
  Of whomb I makes these rhymes?
His name is Jacob Homnium, Exquire;
  And if I’d committed crimes,
Good Lord I wouldn’t ave that mann
  Attack me in the Times!

Now shortly after the groomb
  His master’s oss did take up,
There came a livery-man
  This gentleman to wake up;
And he handed in a little bill,
  Which hangered Mr. Jacob.

For two pound seventeen
  This livery-man eplied,
For the keep of Mr. Jacob’s oss,
  Which the thief had took to ride.
“Do you see anythink green in me?”

Mr. Jacob Homnium cried.

“Because a raskle chews
  My oss away to robb,
And goes tick at your Mews
  For seven-and-fifty bobb,
Shall I be call’d to pay?—It is
  A iniquitious Jobb.”

Thus Mr. Jacob cut
  The conwasation short;
The livery-man went ome,
  Detummingd to ave sport,
And summingsd Jacob Homnium, Exquire,
  Into the Pallis Court.

Pore Jacob went to Court,
  A Counsel for to fix,
And choose a barrister out of the four,
  An attorney of the six:
And there he sor these men of Lor,
  And watch’d ’em at their tricks.

The dreadful day of trile
  In the Pallis Court did come;
The lawyers said their say,
  The Judge look’d wery glum,
And then the British Jury cast
  Pore Jacob Hom-ni-um.

O a weary day was that
  For Jacob to go through;
The debt was two seventeen
  (Which he no mor owed than you),
And then there was the plaintives costs,
  Eleven pound six and two.

And then there was his own,
  Which the lawyers they did fix
At the wery moderit figgar
  Of ten pound one and six.
Now Evins bless the Pallis Court,
  And all its bold ver-dicks!

I cannot settingly tell
  If Jacob swaw and cust,
At aving for to pay this sumb;
  But I should think he must,
And av drawn a cheque for L24 4s. 8d.
  With most igstreme disgust.

O Pallis Court, you move
  My pitty most profound.
A most emusing sport
  You thought it, I’ll be bound,
To saddle hup a three-pound debt,
  With two-and-twenty pound.

Good sport it is to you
  To grind the honest pore,
To pay their just or unjust debts
  With eight hundred per cent. for Lor;
Make haste and get your costes in,
  They will not last much mor!

Come down from that tribewn,
  Thou shameless and Unjust;
Thou Swindle, picking pockets in
  The name of Truth august:
Come down, thou hoary blasphemy,
  For die thou shalt and must.

And go it, Jacob Homnium,
  And ply your iron pen,
And rise up, Sir John Jervis,
  And shut me up that den;
That sty for fattening lawyers in,
  On the bones of honest men.

PLEACEMAN X.

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