They Dined On Mince, And Slices Of

The Owl And The Pussycat Went To Sea In A Beautiful Pea-green Boat: They Took Some Honey, And Plenty Of Money Wrapped Up In A Five-pound Note. . . 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, The Moon, The Moon, They Danced By The Light Of The Moon.

There Was An Old Person Of Bray, Who Sang Through The Whole Of The Day To His Ducks And His Pigs, Whom He Fed Upon Figs, That Valuable Person Of Bray.

They Went To Sea In A Sieve, They Did; In A Sieve They Went To Sea; In Spite Of All Their Friends Could Say.

A Vile Beastly Rottenheaded Foolbegotten Brazenthroated Pernicous Piggish Screaming, Tearing, Roaring, Perplexing, Splitmecrackle Crashmecriggle Insane Ass Of A Woman Is Practising Howling Below-stairs With A Brute Of A Singingmaster So Horribly, That My Head Is Nearly Off.

They Danced By The Light Of The Moon.