Roses are redish,
Violets are blueish,
If it wasn't for Christmas,
We'd all be Jewish.

There once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small
He knew nothing at all,
And now he's a college professor.

There was a lady who triplets begat
Nat, Pat and Tat
It was fun breeding
But trouble feeding
Cause she didn't have a tit for Tat.

There once was a lady from Hyde,
Who ate a green apple and died,
While her lover lamented,
The apple fermented,
and made cider inside her inside.

There once was a man named McGill,
Whose acts grew exceedingly ill,
He insisted on habits,
involving white rabbits,
and a bird with a flexible bill.