Well Boory, I have read your grin,
And listened to your whine;
I only wish youd sent it in
Before I printed mine.
You see, I never meant to hit
The new-chum Jackaroo;
I only tried to write a skit
On poets such as you.
Were sinners all the world knows that,
But damned mean sinners some
(The possum you are barking at
is up the other gum).
But sneer in safety if you choose
Ive no hand in the game;
I will not fight the crawlers whos
Afraid to sign his name.
I never strike without a mark
Tis safer in the end;
For he who hits back in the dark
Might chance to hurt a friend!
The game is stale, your jokes are flat,
You might as well be dumb
(The possum you are howling at
Is up another gum).
