There Was An Old Person Of Bray,

The Owl And The Pussycat Went To Sea In A Beautiful Pea-green Boat: They Took Some Honey, And Plenty Of Money Wrapped Up In A Five-pound Note. . . They Dined On Mince And Slices Of Quince, Which They Ate With A Runcible Spoon; And Hand In Hand, On The Edge Of The Sand, They Danced By The Light Of The Moon, The Moon, The Moon, They Danced By The Light Of The Moon.

And They Brought An Owl, And A Useful Cart, And A Pound Of Rice, And A Cranberrytart, And A Hive Of Silvery Bees. And They Brought A Pig, And Some Green Jack-daws, And A Lovely Monkey With Lollipop Paws, And Forty Bottles Of Ring-bo-ree, And No End Of Stilton Cheese.

I Am Almost Thanking God That I Was Never Educated, For It Seems To Me That 999 Of Those Who Are So, Expensively And Laboriously, Have Lost All Before They Arrive At My Age-& Remain Like Swift's Stulbruggs-cut And Dry For Life, Making No Use Of Their Earlier-gained Treasures:-whereas, I Seem To Be On The Threshold Of Knowledge.

There Was An Old Man With An Owl, Who Continued To Bother And Howl; He Sate On A Rail, And Imbibed Bitter Ale, Which Refreshed That Old Man And His Owl.

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.