#EnglishWriters
There was an old man of Tobago, Who lived on rice, gruel and sago Till, much to his bliss, His physician said this - To a leg, sir, of mutton you may g…
Calico Pie, The little Birds fly Down to the calico tree, Their wings were blue, And they sang ‘Tilly-loo!’
There was an Old Man of Moldavia… Who had the most curious behaviour… For while he was able, He slept on a table. That funny Old Man of Moldavia.
There was an Old Person of Rhode… Who strongly objected to toads; He paid several cousins, To catch them by the dozens, That futile Old Person of Rhodes…
On the Coast of Coromandel Where the early pumpkins blow, In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Two old chairs, and half a candle,
There was an Old Person of Anerl… Whose conduct was strange and unma… He rushed down the Strand With a pig in each hand, But returned in the evening to An…
There was an old person of Troy, Whose drink was warm brandy and so… Which he took with a spoon, By the light of the moon, In sight of the city of Troy.
There was an Old Person from Gre… Who rushed down the crater of Etn… When they said, ‘Is it hot?’ He replied, 'No, it’s not!' That mendacious Old Person of Gr…
There was a Young Lady whose nose… Was so long that it reached to her… So she hired an Old Lady, Whose conduct was steady, To carry that wonderful nose.
There was an Old Man of Whitehav… Who danced a quadrille with a rave… But they said, 'It’s absurd To encourage this bird!' So they smashed that Old Man of…
There was an Old Person of Leeds… Whose head was infested with beads… She sat on a stool, And ate gooseberry fool, Which agreed with that person of…
There was an Old Person of Wick, Who said, ‘Tick-a-Tick, Tick-a-T… Chickabee, Chickabaw.’ And he said nothing more, That laconic Old Person of Wick
There was an Old Lady whose folly Induced her to sit in a holly: Whereupon by a thorn Her dress being torn, She quickly became melancholy.
Delirious Bulldogs;—echoing calls My daughter,—green as summer grass… The long supine Plebeian ass, The nasty crockery boring falls;— Tom-Moory Pathos;—all things bare…
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…