Harry

Hurrah for the bouncer, exactly fourteen;
The blithest old schoolboy that ever was seen,
Hurrah for the Harry who went by, this way,
Last Valentine's eve, thirteen and a day!

There was Harry, aged twelve, I remember him well
A hawk from a hernshaw he always could tell;
And Harry, eleven--ah! how he would fiddle
And scrape with his bow from the end to the middle.

Then the bold boy of ten that my Harry appeared,
A few years ago, when the war-mists were cleared;
A chubby young fellow he flourished at nine,
A right chubby fellow, this Harry of mine.

At eight he was slender; at seven, quite fat;
At six he was saucy--depend upon that!
At five he put on his first trowsers and jacket;
At four who could match him for making a racket?

At three the young rascal was always in trouble;
At two he was teething (his front teeth, and double);
At one he was precious and something to carry,
And the year before that there was never a Harry!