Though the evidence is scant
Not an ounce of mercy can be lent
As she begins her shrill rant
This vicious, vulgar virago.
The ears of every juror bent
To her words, a resounding rant
And poor, sweet justice’s lament
Oh where are you gentle Cicero?
The piles of paper tower high
And from the boy they draw a sigh
Knowing the end is nowhere nigh
He has so very far yet to go.
And he may deign to question why
Or how these documents apply
To the case his masters try,
Oh where are you patient Cicero?
Of this next one: he is the least
A brutal, bastard hungry beast
On the wounded he does feast
And from each victim he wanders to and fro.
And they will not find their release
His appetite for wealth it does not cease
All while their misery does increase
Oh where are you kindly Cicero?
This last crew, they labor fast
When fortune’s die it is miscast
And villainy does justice outlast,
Their valor and ardor does grow.
They scan through cases of the past
The common law to serve the rest
And to your legacy they attest
Oh wise and just Cicero.