Classic Poem

How many ways can you bring me ten?
Now think fast, my merry little men.

Glad to be first, see Jack's eyes shine,
As he quickly comes to me with one and—

Right on his heels his usual mate
Robert follows with two and—

Next to come is Dick from Devon,
And he has written three and—

Then follows quickly Harold Hicks,
I see he makes it four and—

Last of all comes Mortimer Clive,
But first to think of five and—