There was an old man of Tarentum,
Who gnashed his false teeth till he bent ’em:
When they asked him the cost
Of what he had lost,
He replied “I can’t say, for I rent ’em!”
There were three young women of Birmingham,
And I know a sad story concerning 'em:
They stuck needles and pins
In the reverend shins
Of the Bishop engaged in confirming 'em.
There was a young lady of Wilts,
Who walked up to Scotland on stilts;
When they said it was shocking
To show so much stocking,
She answered: "Then what about kilts?"
There once was a girl of Lahore,
The same shape behind as before.
As no one knew where
To offer a chair,
She had to sit down on the floor.
~ Cosmo Monkhouse
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