After last week's sensational set of odes (including the astonishing epic The Firm), here are a few more entries into the RollOnFriday Poetry Corner. Proving that, as well as deft proof reading skills, a keen eye for paginating, and mad photocopying skillz, the world's lawyers are pretty poetic too. Well done to all who entered - if you've got something to get off your chest, here's where to send it in.

The Lawyer's Lament

I was a bright young lad of twenty
(ish) when I embarked on the pathway to plenty
Training contract in place
I annoyed all my mates
With my swaggering gioia de vivente

Ah, but they've had the last laugh in the end
As I sit late at night with my pen
Clutched tight in my hand
As I try to understand
How to unpick bust EMTNs

My dreams were of glory and splendour
To be to the just their defender
To be righteous and proud
Stand my ground good and loud
(And to give other trainees a desk-ender)
                                                                                                                                                   
 Now instead I'm wrapped up in sculduggery
An occasional outright low thuggery
All my dreams now have gone
The trainees are too young
So I'm left with partnerial buggery

Have a care, bright young things, for old hacks
When you come in looking fresh and relaxed
Yes, I could be your dad
And that thought makes me sad
So please handle us fogies with tact.

The office drudge

The drudgery of drudging as a drudge,
Impairs one's ability to judge,
How many hours have passed,
Before a screen all day,
Having slaved away,
And then left the office last.

Is it some arcane valour one seeks,
When working without sleep for weeks?
For as one stares into the abyss,
One begins to soliloquize,
That perhaps some prize,
Can be won by staying in the office.

"Intelligent conversation!" one muses,
Plainly to oneself, though still, it amuses.
Maybe there's a bonus in the offing,
To compensate the bleakness.
But asking with meekness,
One is drowned out by all the scoffing.

"With all your spare capacity,
It is only with sheer audacity,
That you could ever request extra pay,
Your hours are fine, have no fear,
But we suggest you live here,
So you waste less of your day."

Thus, at the whim of such judges,
Onward the office drudge trudges,
Resigned to toil for all eternity,
To conduct every affair,
From his office chair,
That he might conform to this dismal modernity.

Editor's note: the above poet also included a link to a Bob Dylan song. We're not sure if that's important or not.

The Barrister Ballad (A Cautionary Tale)

There was a man (remaining nameless)
Who, by civil wrong enraged,
In his case, for reasons aimless,
Several barristers engaged.

(As with logic he had guessed
Those in wigs must be the best.)

Case was simple: promise broken,
Auditors caught unawares,
Words of truth bereft were spoken,
Partner off to Buenos Aires.

Remedy, he hoped, would fix it,
Which he freely said (or dixit).

He briefed his team in conversation -
Counsel kept the converse brief;
Not much talk of compensation,
None of equity's relief.

On one thing they spoke with ease:
Prospect of their legal fees.

Reassured, for they were certain
That they'd profit, come what may,
He felt safe to raise the curtain
And in court demand his day.

Never thinking, never caring
Lawyers aren't much good at sharing.

Six months later came the week,
Then the day, and then the hour,
Expectation reached a peak,
Justice seemed within his power!

Damages and court awards
Danced before his eyes in hordes.

Strategy of self-promotion,
They'd assured him, was the key -
Cool indifference, high emotion,
Timely joke and tearful plea.

Only with an epic fight
Could his case be watertight.

Smug he sat as case proceeded,
Victory sure from courtroom capers,
When the judge's words he heeded:
"Where the devil are your papers?"

Evidence that he'd compiled
Had, it seemed, all gone unfiled.

Now began humiliation:
Judge was raging, clerk was rude,
Usher keeping up narration
Of the ways his case was screwed.

Lawyers on the other side
Hurled their observations snide.

But joy! He saw his QC rise,
Bearing speech of woe and fury,
Then a nightmare met his eyes -
Judge was present, but no jury!

Diff'rence criminal and civil
He'd been told was pointless drivel.

Case was over, claim rejected,
Partner still in Argentina,
Now, by legal win protected,
Working on his smug demeanour.

All seemed over. Not quite all -
Duty now had one last call.

Barristers, in ranks assembled,
Now lined up in ordered style,
In which state they all resembled
(And had formed) a crocodile.

Sorry claimant, now ill-starred,
Asked if they'd take Barclaycard.

From this tale, do we find morals?
Two at least it may dispense:
First - when fighting legal quarrels,
Let your guide be common sense.

Second - if you'd win your cause,
Always hire solicitors!


Astonishingly, we still have more poems to bring you, so look out for the latest entries soon. To include: another epic "He tries, and fails, to learn the law", and the by turns shocking and sexual, "The Rhyme of the Late Night Document Review". Add your entry here.