Well, Boory, I have read your "grin",
And listened to your whine;
I only wish you'd 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.
We're 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
I've no hand in the game;
I will not fight the crawler who's
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).
First published in Truth, 1893
