There was an old man who because
an inbuilt aversion to laws
induced him to steal
would frequently feel
the clutch of constabulary claws.
There was an old man who in spite
of prevalent sodium light
which gave his divan a
rich hue of banana
when asked to describe it said "White"
There was an old man who throughout
a lifetime of worry and doubt
could never determine
if under his ermine
King Henry was skinny or stout.
There was an old man who although
his birth had ocurred long ago
when quietly told
"Good sir, you are old"
grew angry and shouted "Not so!"
There was an old man who persisted
in writing his limericks twisted.
You'd think he was crazy
the way he resisted
convention. Perhaps he was lazy.
There was, or there might have been, an
excrescence of nature, less than
it frequently was
addressed by the term 'Old Man'