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.

There was an Old Man of Columbia, Who was thirsty, and called out for some beer; But they brought it quite hot, in a small copper pot, Which disgusted that Man of Columbia.

There was an Old Man with an owl, Who continued to bother and howl; He sate on a rail, and imbibed bitter ale, Which refreshed that Old Man and his owl.

There was an Old Man of Messina, Whose daughter was named Opsibeena; She wore a small wig, and rode out on a pig, To the perfect delight of Messina.

They danced by the light of the moon.

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.

When awful darkness and silence reign Over the great Gromboolian plain, Through the long, long wintry nights.