In platter or basket for all to admire,
Or hung on strings before the fire,
There to swing and sputter and roast,
While many an one of the merry host
Gives a tender thought to that first Willie-wee
Who went as a sailor-boy over the sea.
The youngest of all; a new Willie-wee,
—A curly-haired rogue, and our darling is he!—
Now claims for his own uncle Will's Christmas-tree.
"Because," says the child, "he was named for me!"