As a little fat man of Bombay
Was smoking one very hot day,
A bird called a Snipe,
Flew away with his pipe,
Which vex'd the fat man of Bombay.
A merry old man of Oporto,
Had long had the gout in his fore toe;
And oft when he spoke
To relate a good joke,
A terrible twinge cut it short O!
Said a very proud Farmer at Rye-gate,
When the Squire rode up to his high gate,
With your horse and your hound,
You had better go round,
For, I say, you shan't jump over my gate.
There was a rich Squire of Southwark,
From morning to night did his mouth work,
So much and so fast,
That he greatly surpass'd,
Westminster, London and Southwark.
There was an old captain of Dover,
Whom all the physicians gave over;
At the sound of the drum
And 'The enemy's come'
Up jump'd the bold captain of Dover.
A butcher there was at Athlone,
Whom a beggar once ask'd for a bone;
But he drove him away
With a blow of his tray -
O! his heart was as hard as a stone.
There was a young man at St. Kitts,
Who was very much troubled with fits;
An eclipse of the moon
Threw him into a swoon;
Alas! poor young man of St. Kitts.
A Tailor who sailed from Quebec,
In a storm ventur'd once upon deck,
But the waves of the sea,
Were as strong as could be,
And he tumbled in up to his neck.
There was an Old Miser at Reading,
Had a house, with a yard with a shed in,
'Twas meant for a cow,
But so small that I vow,
The poor creature could scarce get its head in.
There was an old soldier of Bicester,
Was walking one day with his sister,
A bull, with one poke,
Toss'd her into an oak,
Before the old gentleman miss'd her.
There was a sick man of Tobago,
Liv'd long on rice-gruel and sago;
But at last to his bliss,
The physician said this -
'To a roast leg of mutton you may go.'
An old gentleman living at Harwich,
At ninety was thinking of marriage,
In came his granson,
Who was just twenty-one,
And went off with the bride in his carriage.
There was a poor man of Jamaica,
He open'd a shop as a baker;
The nice biscuits he made
Procured him much trade,
With the little black boys of Jamaica.
A lively old man at Madeira,
Thought that wine of the heart was a cheerer,
He often would say,
'Put the bottle this way -
Absent friends! - and I wish they were nearer.'
There was and old merchant at Malta,
Very cross but too stubborn to alter,
He flew in a rage
With poor Dr. Sage,
Who attended sick people at Malta.