When Jesus Christ was four years old
The angels brought Him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
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I will not try to reach again,
I will not set my sail alone,
To moor a boat bereft of men
At Yarnton's tiny docks of stone.
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The Scorpion is as black as soot,
He dearly loves to bite;
He is a most unpleasant brute
To find in bed at night.
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Who was frightened by a Passing Motor, and was brought to Reason
"Oh murder! What was that, Papa!"
"My child, It was a Motor-Car,
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Inviting the influence of a young lady upon the opening year
You wear the morning like your dress
And are with mastery crown’d;
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Here richly, with ridiculous display,
The Politician's corpse was laid away.
While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged
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The mirror held your fair, my Fair,
A fickle moment's space.
You looked into mine eyes, and there
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