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Edward Lear - Incidents in the life of my Uncle Arly
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O my aged Uncle Arly!
Sitting on a heap of Barley
Thro` the silent hours of night,
Close beside a leafy thicket:
On his nose there was a Cricket,
In his hat a Railway-ticket
(But his shoes were far too tight).

Long ago, in youth, he squander`d
All his goods away, and wander`d
To the Tinskoop-hills afar.
There on golden sunsets blazing,
Every evening found him gazing,
Singing, "Orb! you`re quite amazing!
How I wonder what you are!"

Like the ancient Medes and Persians,
Always by his own exertions
He subsisted on those hills;
Whiles, by teaching children spelling,
Or at times by merely yelling,
Or at intervals by selling
"Propter`s Nicodemus Pills."

Later, in his morning rambles
He perceived the moving brambles
Something square and white disclose;
`Twas a First-class Railway-Ticket;
But, on stooping down to pick it
Off the ground - a pea-green Cricket
Settled on my uncle`s Nose.

Never - never more - oh, never,
Did that Cricket leave him ever,
Dawn or evening, day or night;
Clinging as a constant treasure,
Chirping with a cheerious measure,
Wholly to my uncle`s pleasure
(Though his shoes were far too tight).

So for three and forty winters,
Till his shoes were worn to splinters,
All those hills he wander`d o`er,
Sometimes silent; sometimes yelling;
Till he came to Borley-Melling,
Near his old ancestral dwelling
(But his shoes were far too tight).

On a little heap of Barley
Died my aged Uncle Arly,
And they buried him one night;
Close beside the leafy thicket;
There - his hat and Railway-Ticket;
There - his ever-faithful Cricket
(But his shoes were far too tight).
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