Classic Poem

We are so merry, contented, and gay,
Enid and I and the baby,
What do we care for the Appian Way,
Enid and I and the baby?
Politics, wars, and the tariff may go,
Little we reck how the fickle winds blow,
We're a triumvirate, mighty and low,
Enid and I and the baby.

Climb up, my little son, here to my knee —
Enid and I and the baby,
Isn't he sturdy and brave as could be? —
Enid and I and the baby;
Take him, my dear, he is weary with play,
See how he blinks in that Sleepy-town way,
Here is a kiss all round, and hurra —
Enid and I and the baby.