Classic Poem

In the words of Phokylides: the tribes of women
come in four breeds: bee, bitch and grimy sow,
and sinewy mare with draping mane. The mare
is healthy, swift, roundly built and on the loose.
The monster-looking sow is neither good nor rotten,
and the bristling bitch lies snapping at the leash.

Yes, the bee is best: a whizz at cleaning, trim
and good in cooking. My poor friend, I tell you,
for a bright, balmy marriage, pray for a bee.