He was as old as old could be, His little eye could scarcely see, His mouth was sunken in between His nose and chin, and he was lean And twisted up and withered quite, So that he couldn't walk aright. His pipe was always going out, And then he'd have to search about In all his pockets, and he'd mow -- O, deary me! and, musha now! -- And then he'd light his pipe, and then He'd let it go clean out again. He couldn't dance or jump or run, Or ever have a bit of fun Like me and Susan, when we shout And jump and throw ourselves about: -- But when he laughed then you could see He was as young as young could be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRIFLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: THE GOVERNOR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NIGHT AND DAY: 4 by ISAAC ROSENBERG WRITTEN ON A WALL AT WOODSTOCK by ELIZABETH I THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND [NOVEMBER 19, 1620] by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS |