Classic Poem

[Why spatter me, you madly babbling bard
With rancid breath so like a putrid turd,
Or strive to lacerate me with both nail
And wicked tooth, just like a cat whose tail
Is twisted, ears are pulled, and spits? Oh please
Say what I've done. Not 'nough adored your phiz
With charming smirk and honeyed glance? And then
My nose pulled long enough to touch my chin?
He envies my athletic nose, but eke
Should one have snipped three inches off his beak
And made a gelded gob or phiz castrated,
Then you'd no longer rage or fiercely hate it.
Your eye would be less quick to flash and ravage,
And your goose quill less prone to slash and savage.
The poet Virgil writes, " Great priest, don't rage! "
So Daniel, if you'll take advice that's sage —
Oh! Jackson, Jackson, what mad matter
Impels you to stir up pure water
For mud to write your filthy satire?]