There was a young woman named Plunnery
Who rejoiced in the practice of gunnery,
Till one day unobservant,
She blew up a servant,
And was forced to retire to a nunnery.

There was a young woman called Starky
Who had an affair with a darky.
The result of her sins
Was quadruplets, not twins:
One black, and one white, and two khaki.

There was a Young Person of Crete,
Whose toilette was far from complete;
She dressed in a sack, spickle-speckled with black,
That ombliferous person of Crete.

Aw, Billy, good sowl! don't cuss! don't cuss!
Ye see, these angels is grand to nuss;
And it's lek they're feedin' them on some nice air,
Or dew or the lek, that's handy there,
O Billy, look at my poor poor bress!
O Billy, see the full it is!
But ... O my God! ... but navar mind!
There's no doubt them sperrits is very kind —
And of coorse they're that beautiful it's lekly
The childher is takin to them directly —
Eh, Billy, eh? ... And ... O my head!
Billy, Billy, come to bed! ...
And the little things that navar knew sin —

To notice other days were pages given,
That when by former scenes anew we stray,
The leaves of our own growth let fall from heaven
May play in Memory's breath acrost our way.

So these gathered, though strown; by friendly hand,
Meet me again as by his door I rove;
Not scattered vainly on his well-tilled land,
So that in Memory's breath they ever move.

There was a young man so benighted
He didn't know when he was slighted,
— But went to the party
— And ate just as hearty
As if he'd been duly invited!

There was a young maid who said, "Why
Can't I look in my ear with my eye?
If I give my mind to it,
I'm sure I can do it,
You never can tell till you try."

There was an Old Man of Berlin,
Whose form was uncommonly thin;
Till he once, by mistake, was mixed up in a cake,
So they baked that Old Man of Berlin.

Oh humble me! I cannot bide the joy
That in my Savior's presence ever flows;
May I be lowly, lest it may destroy
The peace his childlike spirit ever knows;
I would not speak thy word, but by Thee stand;
While Thou dost to thine erring children speak;
Oh help me but to keep his own command,
And in my strength to feel me ever weak;
Then in thy presence shall I humbly stay,
Nor lose the life of love he came to give;
And find at last the life, the truth, the way,
To where with him thy blessed servants live;
And walk forever in the path of truth,

There was a young lady of station,
"I love man,' was her sole exclamation;
But when men cried: "You flatter,'
She replied: "Oh! no matter,
Isle of Man is the true explanation!'