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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 an old person of Bray,
Who sang through the whole of the day
To his ducks and his pigs, whom he fed upon figs,
That valuable person of Bray.

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 person of Bow,
Whom nobody happened to know;
So they gave him some soap, and said coldly, “We hope
You will go back directly to Bow!”

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 a young lady of Firle,
Whose hair was addicted to curl;
It curled up a tree, and all over the sea,
That expansive young lady of Firle.

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 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.

There was an old person of Dundalk,
Who tried to teach fishes to walk;
When they tumbled down dead, he grew weary, and said,
“I had better go back to Dundalk!”

There was an old person of Shoreham,
Whose habits were marked by decorum;
He bought an Umbrella, and sate in the cellar,
Which pleased all the people of Shoreham.

There was an old person of Bar,
Who passed all her life in a jar,
Which she painted pea-green, to appear more serene,
That placid old person of Bar.

There was a young person of Kew,
Whose virtues and vices were few;
But with blamable haste she devoured some hot paste,
Which destroyed that young person of Kew.

There was an old person of Jodd,
Whose ways were perplexing and odd;
She purchased a whistle, and sate on a thistle,
And squeaked to the people of Jodd.

There was an old person of Bude,
Whose deportment was vicious and crude;
He wore a large ruff of pale straw-colored stuff,
Which perplexed all the people of Bude.

There was an old person of Brigg,
Who purchased no end of a wig;
So that only his nose, and the end of his toes,
Could be seen when he walked about Brigg.

There was an old man of Messina,
Whose daughter was named Opsibeena;
She wore a small wig, and rode out on a pig,
To the perfect delight of Messina.