ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET.
Snooks, my friend, I see with sorrow
How you waste much precious time—
Notwithstanding all you borrow—
In concocting wretched rhyme.
Do not think that I fling any
Innuendoes at your head,
When I state the fact that many
Mines of Wicklow teem with lead.
Snooks, my friend, you are a ninny