Classic Poem

Vile cur, why will you late and soon
At honest people fly?
You, you, the veriest poltroon
Whene'er a wolf comes by!

Come on, and if your stomach be
So ravenous for fight,
I'm ready! Try your teeth on me,
You 'll find that I can bite.

For like Molossian mastiff stout,
Or dun Laconian hound,
That keeps sure ward, and sharp look-out
For all the sheepfolds round,

Through drifted snow with ears thrown back
I'm ready, night or day,
To follow fearless on the track
Of every beast of prey.

But you, when you have made the wood
With bark and bellowing shake,
If any thief shall fling you food
The filthy bribe you take.