Last week, when conning Cicero
In New Big School,
Smith called me, by a paraphrase,
A senseless mule:
I was n't sharp enough just then
To answer, Jack,
That pots had oft been known to call
The kettles black!
And in the Close the other day
He called me‘ Muff!’
I think I've borne his impudence
Quite long enough!
From length to length abusive men
Can quickly pass,
So I was hardly staggered when
He called me‘ Ass!’
But in the nets on Friday eve
I long did toil
To make old Smith rub in at night
St. Jacob's Oil!
If on the Smithian shins remains
An unbruised inch
My name is not Bartholomew
Ezekiel Finch!