ONE AGED JOHN SMITH AND
HIS YOUTHFUL CONFESSIONS
Your smiles and love you freely lend—
How old are you, my jolly friend?
“Just seventy-three; but pray don’t tell;
A widower I, out for a spell.
The pretty girls, I love them all;
They bounce my heart like a rubber ball;
One moment I rise and the next I fall—
I cannot help it.”