Editor’s Note: There was some playful razzing between John Moye and Hubert Farbes leading up to the dance competition at Barristers Benefit Ball. Citing great poets, they both traded jabs and we’ve included the exchange for your enjoyment. Thanks to all four participants in the spectacular dance competition: Cyndy Ciancio, Hubert Farbes, Vicki Johnson, and John Moye. Turn to page 30 to see photos from the ball and the winner of the dance competition.

From: Nick Muller
To: Hubert Farbes; John Moye

Hubert, I was just with John Moye, and he said something sort of like, he is going to kick your butt!
—Nick

From: Hubert Farbes
To: Nick Muller; John Moye

Ha! The time is nigh.

From: John Moye
To: Hubert Farbes; Nick Muller

As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,/A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me./I shall go forth, brave knave, and kick your butt.
(With apologies to Walt Whitman)

From: Hubert Farbes
To: John Moye; Nick Muller

Apologies to Whitman are definitely required, forthgoer—but remember this:
Standing tiptoe, a man loses balance,/Kindling himself he fails to light,/Acquitting himself he forfeits his hearers,/Admiring himself he does so alone.
Aware of this, the wise man has the simple return/Which other men seek:/Without taking credit/Is accredited,/Laying no claim/Is acclaimed/And, because he does not compete,/Finds peaceful competence./How true is the old saying,/‘Yield and you need not break’!
—Lao Tzu
From: John Moye
To: Huber Farbes; Nick Muller

As A.E. Housman (almost) said:
The time you won your town the race/We chaired you through the market-place;/Man and boy stood cheering by,/And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,/Shoulder-high we bring you home,/And set you at your threshold down,/Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away/From fields where glory does not stay,/And early though the laurel grows/It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut/Cannot see the record cut,/And you’ll just know it in your gut/After I kick your butt.

From: Nick Muller
To: John Moye; Hubert Farbes

Oh, I hadn’t seen this—what a challenge to you, Hubert! This is a terrific poem—even if the last lines are a little unlike Housman!
—Nick

From: Hubert Farbes
To: John Moye; Nick Muller

No time for poetry the rest of the afternoon Moye; but FYI—the Farbes family crest is—a thorny rose! [and, for God’s sake, stop with your massacres of the great poets]