There was an Old Lady of Prague, Whose language was horribly vague; When they said, ‘Are these caps?’ She answered, ‘Perhaps!’ That oracular Lady of Prague.

A was an ant Who seldom stood still, And who made a nice house In the side of a hill. Nice little ant!

There was an Old Man of Kildare, Who climbed into a very old chair; When he said,—'Here I stays,— till the end of my days,' That immovable Man of Kildare.

There was an old man who felt pert When he wore a pale rose-coloured… When they said ‘Is it pleasant?’ He cried 'Not at present— It’s a little to short—is my shirt…

There was an Old Man of Aôsta, Who possessed a large cow, but he… But they said, 'Don’t you see She has rushed up a tree? You invidious Old Man of Aôsta!…

There was a Young Lady of Troy, Whom several large flies did annoy… Some she killed with a thump, Some she drowned at the pump, And some she took with her to Tro…

Time is a taper waning fast! Use it, man, well whilst it doth l… Lest burning downwards it consume… Before thou hast commenced the lab… Time is a pardon of a goodly soil!

Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos Climbed to the top of a wall. And they sate to watch the sunset… And to hear the Nupiter Piffkin c… And the Biscuit Buffalo call.

How pleasant to know Mr. Lear, Who has written such volumes of st… Some think him ill-tempered and qu… But a few find him pleasant enough… His mind is concrete and fastidiou…

Cold are the crabs that crawl on y… Colder the cucumbers that grow ben… And colder still the brazen chops… The tedious gloom of philosophic p… For when the tardy film of nectar…

There was an Old Person of Chead… Who was put in the stocks by the b… For stealing some pigs, Some coats, and some wigs, That horrible person of Cheadle.

There was an Old Person of Ems, Who casually fell in the Thames; And when he was found They said he was drowned, That unlucky Old Person of Ems

There was an Old Person of Spain… Who hated all trouble and pain; So he sat on a chair, With his feet in the air, That umbrageous Old Person of Sp…

There was an Old Person of Bango… Whose face was distorted with ange… He tore off his boots, And subsisted on roots, That irascible Person of Bangor.

O my aged Uncle Arly! Sitting on a heap of Barley Thro’ the silent hours of night, Close beside a leafy thicket: On his nose there was a Cricket,