  This is a rhyme Of ancient time Of a certain old woman who lived in a shoe, And had so many children she didn't know what to do: Fairy knows her, and says it's true. This is the shoe. And this is the dame Without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. These are the children, quite a score— Who worried the dame without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. This is the broth so weak and thin, Made for the children, quite a score— Perhaps one less, perhaps one more— Who worried the dame without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. This is the stick so long and thick, That followed the broth so weak and thin, With never a bit of bread therein, Made for the children, quite a score— Perhaps one less, perhaps one more— Who worried the dame without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. That the children got in, two by two, Urged by the stick so long and thick, That followed the broth so weak and thin, With never a bit of bread therein, Made for the children, quite a score— Who worried the dame without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. And this is the end of a tale that is true, Of a wonderful bed in a wonderful shoe, That the children got in, two by two, Urged by the stick so long and thick, With never a bit of bread therein, Made for the children, quite a score— Perhaps one less, perhaps one more— Who worried the dame without a name, Who Lived in the Shoe. |
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