A SONG ABOUT MYSELF

I.

There was a naughty boy,

A naughty boy was he,

He would not stop at home,

He could not quiet be-

He took

In his knapsack

A book

Full of vowels

And a shirt

With some towels,

A slight cap

For night cap,

A hair brush,

Comb ditto,

New stockings

For old ones

Would split O!

This knapsack

Tight at’s back

He rivetted close

And followed his nose

To the north,

To the north,

And follow’d his nose

To the north.

II.

There was a naughty boy

And a naughty boy was he,

For nothing would he do

But scribble poetry-

He took

An ink stand

In his hand

And a pen

Big as ten

In the other,

And away

In a pother

He ran

To the mountains

And fountains

And ghostes

And postes

And witches

And ditches

And wrote

In his coat

When the weather

Was cool,

Fear of gout,

And without

When the weather

Was warm-

Och the charm

When we choose

To follow one’s nose

To the north,

To the north,

To follow one’s nose

To the north!

III.

There was a naughty boy

And a naughty boy was he,

He kept little fishes

In washing tubs three

In spite

Of the might

Of the maid

Nor afraid

Of his Granny-good-

He often would

Hurly burly

Get up early

And go

By hook or crook

To the brook

And bring home

Miller’s thumb,

Tittlebat

Not over fat,

Minnows small

As the stall

Of a glove,

Not above

The size

Of a nice

Little baby’s

Little fingers-

O he made

’Twas his trade

Of fish a pretty kettle

A kettle-

A kettle

Of fish a pretty kettle

A kettle!

IV.

There was a naughty boy,

And a naughty boy was he,

He ran away to Scotland

The people for to see-

There he found

That the ground

Was as hard,

That a yard

Was as long,

That a song

Was as merry,

That a cherry

Was as red,

That lead

Was as weighty,

That fourscore

Was as eighty,

That a door

Was as wooden

As in England-

So he stood in his shoes

And he wonder’d,

He wonder’d,

He stood in his

Shoes and he wonder’d.