Oyez! Oyez! Behold we state
The rules of this our Syndicate.
Let it be granted first of all,
That you are not so young and small
As foolish people would suppose,
From your long hair and shorter clothes.
Item the second, please agree
To just the opposite in me.
For would the wisest man alive
Imagine I was twenty-five?
This done, folk cannot make a fuss,
Or say that we’re preposterous.
For you become, as all may see,
A chaperone in charge of me.
Thirdly, this reservation’s made,
The Syndicate’s too old and staid
To ride (though you’ll object no doubt)
In swinging boat and roundabout.
Fourthly, the world’s a dear old place,
So always keep a smiling face.
It suits you best, and as to that,
So does pink chiffon in your hat.
Lastly, lest envious folk combine
To wreck your Syndicate, and mine,
My autograph is here affixed,
Written in blood and water mixed.
_P.S._ It may not look like blood to you
But recollect my blood is blue.