'Don'T Look A Gift-Horse In The Mouth'

I knew a man who lived down South; He thought this maxim to defy; He looked a Gift-horse in the Mouth; The Gift-horse bit him in the Eye! And, while the steed enjoyed his bite, My Southern friend mislaid his sight.

Now, had this foolish man, that day, Observed the Gift-horse in the Heel, It might have kicked his brains away, But that's a loss he would not feel; Because, you see (need I explain?), My Southern friend has got no brain.

When any one to you presents A poodle, or a pocket-knife, A set of Ping-pong instruments, A banjo or a lady-wife, 'Tis churlish, as I understand, To grumble that they're second-hand.

And he who termed Ingratitude As 'worser nor a servant's tooth' Was evidently well imbued With all the elements of Truth; (While he who said 'Uneasy lies The tooth that wears a crown' was wise).

'One must be poor,' George Eliot said, 'To know the luxury of giving'; So too one really should be dead To realise the joy of living. (I'd sooner be--I don't know which-- I'd like to be alive and rich!)

This book may be a Gift-horse too, And one you surely ought to prize; If so, I beg you, read it through, With kindly and uncaptious eyes, Not grumbling because this particular line doesn't happen to scan, And this one doesn't rhyme!