I'll sit in Court for a week or two:
It's just as well, now and then,
To show yourself to the public ken.
Ah me! who would be
Judge of the High Court, Q B.D.?

But it's tiring work to sit on the Bench,
Hearing the Counsel, day by day,
Canting and ranting, while they clench
Their fists, and thump and hammer away:
Be their arguments weak or strong,
Whatever I say I'm in the wrong.
Ah me! who would be,
A badgered Judge of the Q.B.D.?

Whenever I crack a judicial jest,
Witnesses, jurors, suitors smile,
They quite understand I do my best,
A wearisome action to beguile:
"Silks" and "Juniors" seem to force,
A jeering laugh as a matter of course.
Ah me! who would be,
A jocular Judge of the Q.B.D.?

The public, solicitors, counsel, frown
And grumble and growl at the law's delay;
I'm never allowed to stop in town,
Off on Circuit I'm hurried away:
Election Petitions I'm made to judge,
On Irish Commissions I have to drudge.