Billing and cooing is all your cheer;
Sighing and singing of midnight strains,
Under Bonnybell’s window panes,—
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Forty times over let Michaelmas pass,
Grizzling hair the brain doth clear—
Then you know a boy is an ass,
Then you know the worth of a lass,
Once you have come to Forty Year.
Pledge me round, I bid ye declare,