Have each of them a lot of bones,
To grow and strengthen, or else to break
Beneath life’s burdens or sudden quake,
Mid the wide and varied warring zones,
Of the seven children of my friend Jones.
But seven, you know, is the perfect plan;
It stands for all that’s the best in man—
In his youthful days and ripest years,
In his joys and sorrows, high hopes and fears;
’Tis God’s own number—away with groans!