Classic Poem

Little fellow, come to me,
For a ride upon my knee;
Here we go, so brisk and bright,
Through the village of Delight,
Up the happy hill of Joy,—
Goodness, what a heavy boy!
Down through Merry, Cheery Lane,
Now we gallop home again.

What a canter we have had,
You and I, my laughing lad!
Such sport one may only see
On a tried and trusty knee;
There, dismount, thou roguish sprite,
Hitch the horse up good and tight;
Next time we will take a run
Round the bailiwick of Fun.