Will crowd to o'erwhelm you with powerful surge;
Still, consider them naught, to a year and a day,
When you trit-trot the baby!
There's a concert perhaps, or some favorite play,
Or a party, where all your old playmates are gay;
"But, my dear, 'bout YOUR baby!
"Now, wifey, you know it to be impolite
That you and I, both, the invite should slight.
Alas! I'm a martyr to etiquette, though;
Pet must have vision enough to see so.