Читать книгу Our Story Book: Jingles, Stories and Rhymes for Little Folks - Various - Страница 4

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There was an old Woman,

And what do you think?

She lived upon nothing but

Victuals and drink;

And though victuals and drink

Were the chief of her diet,

This little Old Woman could never be quiet.

This little Old Woman (the story so goes)

Had nothing to wear but

Abundance of clothes.

And, oh, let me weep

At the dismal news,

She would have been barefooted, but for her shoes.

This Little Old Woman,

Twas always the case,

Never looked in the glass

But she saw her own face;

And what was still worse,

Yet, we vouch for its truth,

By growing so old, she had lost all her youth.

This Little Old Woman,

The tale too declares,

Had nothing to sit on

But sofas and chairs.

No place to repose in

At night but her bed;

No pillows, but those made of down, for her head.

This Little Old Woman,

We here may remark,

Had no house to live in,

But one in the park,

And none to wait on her,

Poor soul, but her maids,

With some livery servants of different grades.

This Little Old Woman,

I'm sorry to tell,

Had always bad health,

When she was not quite well.

And hard was her lot,

For they tell me that she

Was ever in want

When she wanted her tea.

This Little Old Woman,

On dying, we find,

Left nothing—except

A large fortune, behind.

So pity her fate,

Gentle reader, and say,

Such women are not to be found every day.