Wo, wo, wo! to the eagle! Now you see I reverse things again,
Vice-versa-ing my apostrophe—’tis a common trick of versemen and orators—
Soon the eagle of song will soar ever so much higher than the eagle who can’t sing;
And he won’t like that—the other eagle I mean, of course:
So he’ll let himself fall into the sea like a thunderbolt.
(That last idea is not mine, but a Mr. Tennyson’s; have you heard of him?)
While as for the gnats—they are the critics, as I hinted just now, you know.
Sting for sting, my hearties, then! buzz for buzz! bite for bite!
And, as of course I am ever so much bigger than you are,
I’ll shrike you as the humming-bird shrikes the honey-bee—that I will.