Colin F. Jones


Is it because they don’t agree,
And refrain from killing to be free,
That lampooning becomes your special art,
That from respect you thus depart?
‘Tis always he who would so chide,
Another with his falser pride,
Who shows his talent for disgust,
Who stands as one whom none can trust.
Stand up then he who perfect thinks,
Who while he mocks his pureness shrinks,
And show the world an ignorant fool,
Lives in the skin of scowl and drool
Which clothes the cranium where the thought,
To chide another finds resort.