Classic Poem

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.)