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 crawlers 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).