There was an Old Man of Apulia, Whose conduct was very peculiar He fed twenty sons, Upon nothing but buns, That whimsical Man of Apulia.

A was once an ant, Tiny, Busy, Speedy, Shiny

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…

There was a Young Lady of Ryde, Whose shoe-strings were seldom unt… She purchased some clogs, And some small spotted dogs, And frequently walked about Ryde

There was an Old Person of Dover… Who rushed through a field of blue… But some very large bees, Stung his nose and his knees, So he very soon went back to Dove…

There was a Young Lady of Wales, Who caught a large fish without sc… When she lifted her hook She exclaimed, ‘Only look!’ That ecstatic Young Lady of Wale…

There was an Old Sailor of Compt… Whose vessel a rock it once bump’d… The shock was so great, that it damaged the pate, Of that singular Sailor of Compto…

There was an Old Man of the Cape… Who possessed a large Barbary ape… Till the ape one dark night Set the house all alight, Which burned that Old Man of the…

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 in a tree, Who was horribly bored by a bee. When they said “Does it buzz?” He replied “Yes, it does! It’s a regular brute of a bee!”

There was a Young Lady of Clare, Who was sadly pursued by a bear; When she found she was tired, She abruptly expired, That unfortunate Lady of Clare.

She sate upon her Dobie, To watch the Evening Star, And all the Punkahs as they passe… Cried, ‘My! how fair you are!’ Around her bower, with quivering l…

The Pobble who has no toes Had once as many as we; When they said, “Some day you may… He replied, “Fish fiddle de-dee!” And his Aunt Jobiska made him dri…

There was an Old Man of the Wrek… Whose shoes made a horrible creaki… But they said, ‘Tell us whether, Your shoes are of leather, Or of what, you Old Man of the W…

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…