There was a young lady whose clock,
Couldn’t hickory, dickory, dock;
When the hour struck,
It’d hoot and cluck,
And confound that old lady and clock.
There was an old man of Berlin,
Who grew a two-story pumpkin;
He sold it as a boat,
But it didn’t float,
That tricky old man of Berlin.
There was a young lady in gray,
Who wandered the hills every day;
Picking poppies and fruit,
All manner of loot,
To brighten that young lady in gray.