Climb by rope,
Or climb by ladder,
I'll climb farther.
One misty, moisty morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment, and I began to grin,
How do you do, and how do you do?
And how do you do again?
In April's sweet month,
When the leaves 'gin to spring,
Little lambs skip like fairies
And birds build and sing.
There was an old woman tost up in a blanket,
Seventy times as high as the moon,
What she did there, I cannot tell you,
but in her hand she carried a broom.
Old woman, old woman, old woman, said I,
O whither, O whither, O whither so high?
To sweep the cobwebs from the sky,
And I shall be back again by and by.
Shoe the horse, and shoe the mare,
But let the little colt go bare.
The North wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then?
He'll sit in the barn
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,