LINES WROTE WHILST RECOVERIN’ FROM AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY A HORNET

O Hornet! When I think’st what thou canst do To make strong men just hump themselves and run, Men who wouldst boldly face a ten-inch gun But lack the “sand” to halt whilst you pursue, And deem’st thy stinger something they wouldst rue, I’ve wondered if, when things that weigh a ton Flee from thy wrath, thou dost not deem it fun To chase folks that are so much bigger ’n you. Didst I accordin’ to my size possess The means for gettin’ even thou dost own, ’Twouldst be great sport to tackle—well, I guess!— A boy ’most any size, and hear him moan As I didst when thou gavest me that caress From something hotter than the torrid zone!