Classic Poem

I MET a man of ninety-three
Who took my hand in his,
He took my hand and shook my hand
And gave my wife a kiss;
" You've married the pride of Westmoreland"
He said, and he looked his fill —
But a hearty man of ninety-three
May kiss whomever he will.

There's a deal of truth and wisdom too
In a man of ninety-three,
Yet I did not need an aged man
To find the maid for me;
When I married the pride of Westmoreland
Youth's wisdom did not floor me —
I took my pick in Kendal town
Like Harry the Eighth before me.