Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin--
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Curly gold locks cover foolish brains,
Billing and cooing is all your cheer;
Sighing and singing of midnight strains,
Under Bonnybell's windowpanes--
Wait till you come to Forty Year!