There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
ninety times as high as the moon;
and where she was going, I couldn’t but ask it,
for in her hand she carried a broom.
Old woman, old woman, old woman, quoth I
O whither, O whither, O whither, so high?
To sweep the cobwebs off the sky!
Shall I go with you? Aye, by and by.