Classic Poem

Who is he I should like to be told!
What is he I should wish him to show!
Why the Brines' name will stand good for gold,
While the Browns are a set that none know.
Echo . No, no.

No, I'm not asham'd of my place;
No, I'm not asham'd of my name;
No, I can well hold up my face
While he must hang his down for shame.
Echo . For shame!

Since now he bestrides an old mare
His lips, O with pride how they pout!
Though his feet once trudged about bare,
When I had a horse to ride out.
Echo . I doubt.

No, he's not too safe from a fall,
If a half I am told is but true;
I could very soon make him look small,
With a turn I could very well do.
Echo . Well do.

His pride would have come to an end
Long ago, as it must, bye-and-bye,
If I had not stood for his friend
As I did, and the greater oaf I.
Echo . O fie!

I may be a little fore-right;
But I never would do on the sly
Little doings not fit for the light;
You will never find me in a lie.
Echo . A lie.