ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET.
Reading edition
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 (Class, mammalia-genus, muff), If you hope to make a guinea By such caterwauling stuff. Lives of poets all remind us We may write “demnition” fine, Leaving still unsolved behind us The problem, “How are bards to dine?” Problem which perhaps some others, As through life they dodge about, Seeing, shall suppose our mothers Did not know that we were out. Hang the bard, and cut the punster, Fling all rhyming to the deuce, Take a business tour through Munster, Shoot a landlord—be of use. Richard Dalton Williams (1822–1862).
“SAINT KEVIN TOOK THE GANDER FROM THE ARMS OF THE KING.”