There was an old person of Sark,
    Who made an unpleasant remark;
    But they said, “Don’t you see what a brute you must be,
    You obnoxious old person of Sark!”

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    There was an old man whose despair
    Induced him to purchase a hare: 
    Whereon one fine day he rode wholly away,
    Which partly assuaged his despair.

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    There was an old person of Barnes,
    Whose garments were covered with darns;
    But they said, “Without doubt, you will soon wear them out,
    You luminous person of Barnes!”

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    There was an old person of Nice,
    Whose associates were usually Geese. 
    They walked out together in all sorts of weather,
    That affable person of Nice!

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    There was a young lady of Greenwich,
    Whose garments were border’d with Spinach;
    But a large spotty Calf bit her shawl quite in half,
    Which alarmed that young lady of Greenwich.

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    There was an old person of Cannes,
    Who purchased three fowls and a fan;
    Those she placed on a stool, and to make them feel cool
    She constantly fanned them at Cannes.

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    There was an old person of Ickley,
    Who could not abide to ride quickly;
    He rode to Karnak on a tortoise’s back,
    That moony old person of Ickley.

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    There was an old person of Hyde,
    Who walked by the shore with his bride,
    Till a Crab who came near fill’d their bosoms with fear,
    And they said, “Would we’d never left Hyde!”

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    There was an old person in gray,
    Whose feelings were tinged with dismay;
    She purchased two parrots, and fed them with carrots,
    Which pleased that old person in gray.

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    There was an old man of Ancona,
    Who found a small dog with no owner,
    Which he took up and down all the streets of the town,
    That anxious old man of Ancona.

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    There was an old person of Sestri,
    Who sate himself down in the vestry;
    When they said, “You are wrong!” he merely said “Bong!”
    That repulsive old person of Sestri.

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    There was an old person of Blythe,
    Who cut up his meat with a scythe;
    When they said, “Well!  I never!” he cried, “Scythes for ever!”
    That lively old person of Blythe.

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    There was a young person of Ayr,
    Whose head was remarkably square: 
    On the top, in fine weather, she wore a gold feather;
    Which dazzled the people of Ayr.

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