There was an old man from Peru
Who dreamed he was eating his shoe;
He woke in a fright
In the middle of the night
And found it was perfectly true.

There was an Old Man of Kamschatka
Who possessed a remarkably fat Cur;
His gait and his waddle
Were held as a model
To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka.

There was an Old Man of Girgenti,
Who lived in profusion and plenty;
He lay on two chairs, and ate thousands of pears,
That susceptible Man of Girgenti.

There was an Old Man of Dunblane,
Who greatly resembled a crane;
But they said, — " Is it wrong, since your legs are so long,
To request you won't stay in Dunblane?"

There was an Old Man of Bohemia,
Whose daughter was christened Euphemia;
Till one day, to his grief, she married a thief,
Which grieved that Old Man of Bohemia.

There was an old man lived out in the wood,
His trade was a-cutting of Broom, green Broom;
He had but one son without thrift, without good,
Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon, bright noon.

The old man awoke, one morning and spoke,
He swore he would fire the room, that room,
If his John would not rise and open his eyes,
And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom,

So Johnny arose, and he slipped on his clothes,
And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom,
He sharpened his knives, for once he contrives

(Variations on repetition of solos shown in parentheses)

1 There was an old lady who lived in Dundee,
To me way, hay, hay, yah.
There was an old lady who lived in Dundee,
Oh, a long time ago. . . .

2 Now, her sons (they) grew up and they all went to sea.

3 One became mate and the other a sailor,

4 But the one that I'm going to tell you of, the story is:

5 He joined a Hark bound out for the East,

6 And not as a sailor nor yet as a mate.

There was an old lady of Chertsey,
Who made a remarkable curtsey;
She twirled round and round,
Till she sank underground,
Which distressed all the people of Chertsey.

There was an Indian, who had known no change,
Who strayed content along a sunlit beach
Gathering shells. He heard a sudden strange
Commingled noise: looked up; and gasped for speech.
For in the bay, where nothing was before,
Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes,
With bellying clothes on poles, and not one oar,
And fluttering colored signs and clambering crews.

And he, in fear, this naked man alone
His fallen hands forgetting all their shells,
His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone,
And stared, and saw, and did not understand,

There was airy music and sport at the fair
And showers were tenting on the bare field,
Laughter had knotted a crowd where the horses
And mares were backing, when carts from the wheelwright
Were shafted: bargains on sale everywhere and the barmen
Glassing neat whiskey or pulling black porter
On draught — and O the red brandy, the oatmeal
And the whiteness of flour in the weighing scale!

Calico petticoats, cashmere and blouses,
Blankets of buttermilk, flannel on stalls there,
Caps of bright tweed and corduroy trousers