Classic Poem

'T IS not a poisoning case obscure,
Nor murder, nor assault;
Three goats are stolen, and I'm sure
My neighbour is in fault.

The judge has asked for evidence,
'Tis all we're waiting for;
But counsel paints with eloquence
The Mithradatic war.

He roars of Carthage — perjured land,
And Cannae doth discuss,
And then applauds with voice and hand
The deeds of Marius.

With Sulla's acts he makes us quake,
O'er Mucius he gloats;
Now, Postumus, for goodness' sake
Say something of the goats.