(Tried in Minnesota in 1892)

Kind reader, tarry here, nor miss
The law of Minneapolis.
There was a carpenter called Brown,
A citizen of that great town,
Who stood his "inexpressive she"
A dollar's worth of comedy.
Was it a Gaiety burlesque,
Or labour of Norwegian desk?
Or did they spout in stagey tones
Morality by H. A. Jones?
Or tear romance to rags and set it
In heavy platitudes by Pettit?
I know not, and it matters not,
The subject I have clean forgot.
Sufficient that the pair did sit
In expectation in the pit,
An expectation not fulfilled,
'Twas otherwise by fortune willed.
Before this loving couple sat
In solitary state a hat--
A hat, I say, for in their wonder
They never noticed what was under,
The wearer must have been a "human,"
But might have been a man or woman.
'Twas like a mountain crowned with trees
Amid the pathless Pyrenees,
Or like a garden planned by Paxton,
Or colophon designed by Caxton,
So intricate the work; and flowers
Were trained to climb its soaring towers,
Convolvulus and candytuft,
And 'mid them water-wagtails stuffed.
Such splendour never yet, I wis,
Had shone in Minneapolis.
But Brown was in a sore dilemma,
A dollar he had paid for Emma
To see a play, and not a hat;
A dollar, it was dear at that.
And Emma--disappointment racked her,
She never saw a single actor.
So Brown, with visage thunder-black,
Demanded both his dollars back.
The man who took the cash said, "Sonny,
Our rule is not to give back money.
But if you'll come another night,
Maybe you'll get a better sight."
So Brown went home and nursed his sorrow,
His writ he issued on the morrow.
A hundred dollars was his claim,
And the young lady claimed the same.
The case was argued, on revision
Of pleadings, this was the decision:
"The theatre's defence is bad,
Brown paid for what he never had,
He paid when in the pit he sat
To see a play and not a hat.
To bring defendants to their senses,
I find for plaintiffs with expenses."
Justitië columna sis,
Wise judge of Minneapolis!