An Error
I NEVER said my verse you’d mocked;
Nor how you’d giggled at my grammar’
You, on whom Fame her door has lock’d,
I little mark’d your empty clamour.
I merely said that when you’d call’d
On Fame, and thrice her cruel porters
Had kick’s you off, thrice back you crawl’d,
And kiss’d, thrice kiss’d, their hinder-quarters.
Other works by Joseph Skipsey...
