Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,
She lays eggs for gentlemen.
Gentlemen come every day
To count what my black hen doth la
If perchance she lays too many,

My fellow man I do not care for.
I often ask me, What’s he there f
The only answer I can find
Is, Reproduction of his kind.
If I’m supposed to swallow that,

Sure, deck your limbs in pants;
Yours are the limbs, my sweeting.
You look divine as you advance—
Have you seen yourself retreating?

I sit in the dusk. I am all alone
Enter a child and an ice-cream con
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,

Your hopeless patients will live,
Your healthy patients will die.
I have only this word to give:
Wonder, and find out why

Some singers sing of ladies’ eyes,
And some of ladies lips,
Refined ones praise their ladylike
And course ones hymn their hips.
The Oxford Book of English Verse

Celery, raw
Develops the jaw,
But celery, stewed,
Is more quietly chewed.

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Someone sailed the ocean blue.
Somebody borrowed the fare in Spa
For a business trip on the boundin
And to prove to the people, by act

Who wants my jellyfish?
I’m not sellyfish!

A bit of talcum
Is always walcum.