Franklin P. Adams - Advising Chloë lyrics

Horace: Book I, Ode 23 "Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë--" Why shun me, my Chloë? Nor pistol nor bowie Is mine with intention to k**. And yet like a llama you run to your mamma; You tremble as though you were ill. No lion to rend you, no tiger to end you, I'm tame as a bird in a cage. That counsel maternal can run for The Journal-- You get me, I guess. . . . You're of age.