You are old,Father William,"the young man said,/"And your hair had become very white;And yet you incessantly stand on your head--/Do you think ,at your age,it is right?"
"In my youth,"Father William replied to his son,/"I feared it might injure the brain;But,now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,/Why ,I do it again and again.
"You are old,"said the youth,"as I mentioned before,/And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-/pray,what is the reason of that?