The poem
The Editor wrote his political screed In ink that was fainter and fainter; He rose to the call of his country's need, And in spiderish characters wrote with speed, A column on "Cutting the Painter". The "reader" sat in his high-backed chair, For literals he was a hunter; But he stared aghast at the column long Of the editorial hot and strong, For the comp. inspired by some sense of wrong Had headed it "Gutting the Punter".