There was an old person of Rimini, Who said, "Gracious! Goodness! O Gimini!" When they said, "Please be still!" She ran down a hill, And was never more heard of at Rimini.
There is a young lady, whose nose, Continually prospers and grows; When it grew out of sight, She exclaimed in a fright, "Oh! Farewell to the end of my nose!"
There was an old person of Ealing, Who was wholly devoid of good feeling; He drove a small gig, With three Owls and a Pig, Which distressed all the people of Ealing.
There was an old man of Thames Ditton, Who called out for something to sit on; But they brought him a hat, And said, "Sit upon that, You abruptious old man of Thames Ditton!"
There was a young person whose history Was always considered a mystery; She sate in a ditch, Although no one knew which, And composed a small treatise on history.
There was an old man of Toulouse Who purchased a new pair of shoes; When they asked, "Are they pleasant?" He said, "Not at present!" That turbid old man of Toulouse.
There was an old person of Rye, Who went up to town on a fly; But they said, "If you cough, You are safe to fall off! You abstemious old person of Rye!"
There was an old person of Crowle, Who lived in the nest of an owl; When they screamed in the nest, He screamed out with the rest, That depressing old person of Crowle.
There was an old Lady of Winchelsea, Who said, "If you needle or pin shall see On the floor of my room, Sweep it up with the broom!" That exhaustive old Lady of Winchelsea!
There was an old man in a tree, Whose whiskers were lovely to see; But the birds of the air Pluck'd them perfectly bare, To make themselves nests in that tree.
There was a young lady of Corsica, Who purchased a little brown saucy-cur; Which she fed upon ham, And hot raspberry jam, That expensive young lady of Corsica.
There was an old person of Stroud, Who was horribly jammed in a crowd; Some she slew with a kick, Some she scrunched with a stick, That impulsive old person of Stroud.
There was an old man of Boulak, Who sate on a Crocodile's back; But they said, "Towr'ds the night He may probably bite, Which might vex you, old man of Boulak!"
There was an old person of Skye, Who waltz'd with a Bluebottle fly: They buzz'd a sweet tune, To the light of the moon, And entranced all the people of Skye.
There was an old person of Bree, Who frequented the depths of the sea; She nurs'd the small fishes, And washed all the dishes, And swam back again into Bree.
There was an old man of Blackheath, Whose head was adorned with a wreath Of lobsters and spice, Pickled onions and mice, That uncommon old man of Blackheath.
There was an old man, who when little Fell casually into a kettle; But, growing too stout, He could never get out, So he passed all his life in that kettle.