THE WONDERFUL OLD MAN
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There was an old man Who lived on a common And, if fame speaks true, He was born of a woman. Perhaps you will laugh, But for truth I've been told He once was an infant Tho' age made him old.
Whene'er he was hungry He longed for some meat; And if he could get it 'T was said he would eat. When thirsty he'd drink If you gave him a pot, And what he drank mostly Ran down his throat.
He seldom or never Could see without light, And yet I've been told he Could hear in the night. He has oft been awake In the daytime, 't is said, And has fallen asleep As he lay in his bed.
'T is reported his tongue Always moved when he talk'd, And he stirred both his arms And his legs when he walk'd; And his gait was so odd Had you seen him you 'd burst, For one leg or t' other Would always be first.
His face was the drollest That ever was seen, For if 't was not washed It seldom was clean; His teeth he expos'd when He happened to grin, And his mouth stood across 'Twixt his nose and his chin.
When this whimsical chap Had a river to pass, If he couldn't get over He stayed where he was. 'T is said he ne'er ventured To quit the dry ground, Yet so great was his luck He never was drowned.
At last he fell sick, As old chronicles tell, And then, as folks say, He was not very well. But what was as strange In so weak a condition, As he could not give fees He could get no physician.
What wonder he died! Yet 't is said that his death Was occasioned at last By the loss of his breath. But peace to his bones Which in ashes now moulder. Had he lived a day longer He'd have been a day older.
Anonymous