The Owl And The Pussycat Went To

When Awful Darkness And Silence Reign Over The Great Gromboolian Plain, Through The Long, Long Wintry Nights.

There Was An Old Man Of Orleans, Who Was Given To Eating Of Beans; Till Once Out Of Sport, He Swallowed A Quart, That Dyspeptic Old Man Of Orleans.

The Owl And The Pussycat Went To Sea In A Beautiful Pea-green Boat: They Took Some Honey, And Plenty Of Money Wrapped Up In A Five-pound Note. . . They Dined On Mince And Slices Of Quince, Which They Ate With A Runcible Spoon; And Hand In Hand, On The Edge Of The Sand, They Danced By The Light Of The Moon, The Moon, The Moon, They Danced By The Light Of The Moon.

They Danced By The Light Of The Moon.

I Was Much Distressed By Next Door People Who Had Twin Babies & Played The Violin: But One Of The Twins Died, & The Other Has Eaten The Fiddle — So All Is Peace.