We want some new garlands for those we have shed,—
And these are white roses in place of the red.
We’ve a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,
Of talking (in public) as if we were old;—
That boy we call “Doctor,” and this we call “Judge”;—
It’s a neat little fiction,—of course, it’s all fudge.
That fellow’s “the Speaker,”—the one on the right;
“Mr. Mayor,” my young one, how are you to-night?
That’s our “Member of Congress,” we say when we chaff;
There’s the “Reverend” What’s his name? Don’t make me laugh!