  Illustrated K Kitty, sweet and seventeen, Pulls my hair and calls me "Harry"; Hints that I am young and green, Wonders if I wish to marry. Only tell me what reply Is the best reply for Kitty? She's but seventeen, and I— I am forty,—more's the pity! Twice at least my Kitty's age (Just a trifle over, maybe), I am sober, I am sage, Kitty nothing but a baby. She is merriment and mirth, I am wise and gravely witty; She's the dearest thing on earth, I am forty,—more 's the pity! woman riding horse She adores my pretty rhymes, Calls me "poet" when I write them; And she listens oftentimes Half an hour when I recite them. Let me scribble by the page Sonnet, ode, or lover's ditty; Seventeen is Kitty's age, I am forty,—more's the pity! decoration |
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