The Man in the Moon
O, The Man in the Moon has a crick in his back;
Whee!
Whimm!
Ain’t you sorry for him?
And a mole on his nose that is purple and black;
And his eyes are so weak that they water and run
If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun,—
So he just dreams of stars, as the doctors advise—
My!
Eyes!
But isn’t he wise—
To just dream of stars, as the doctors advise?
And The Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear—
Whee!
Whing!
What a singular thing!
I know; but these facts are authentic, my dear,—
There’s a boil on his ear, and a corn on his chin—
He calls it a dimple,—but dimples stick in—
Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know;
Whang!
Ho!
Why, certainly so!—
It might be a dimple turned over, you know!
And The Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee—
Gee!
Whizz!
What a pity that is!
And his toes have worked round where his heels ought to be.—
So whenever he wants to go North he goes South,
And comes back with porridge-crumbs all round his mouth,
And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan,
Whing!
Whann!
What a marvelous man!
What a very remarkably marvelous man!