'Come let us slate the Magistrate,
The District judge no less—
"Young persons" they, from whose mad sway
The ryots ask redress.
Yea, let us print the scornful hint
About the D.S.P.;
And straightly curse that most perverse
And juvenile D.C.'
They cursed them free, judicially
In judgment and report.
They took the District judges' list
To make a Bench's sport.
They bullied then these luckless men
In divers ways and harsh;
And, while they wrote , with grateful throat
The people cried:—'Shabash!'
And argued thus ('t is obvious
They took too hasty views;
For Oriental discontent
Runs fast in Europe shoes):—
''Tis plain indeed, from what we read,
Whatever we may do
To Sahibs like these, is sure to please
One Judge and, may be, two.'
The Magistrate, respected late,
Was chased by wild Vakils.
The Zemindar would oft shikar
The 'Stunt' among the bhils.
When they had slain a Judge or twain,
They looked for honour, but
That budding hope a slip-knot rope