There was an old woman tossed in a basket.
Seventeen times as high as the moon;
But where she was going no mortal could tell,
For under her arm she carried a broom.
“Old woman, old woman, old woman,” said I,
“Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?”
“To sweep the cobwebs from the sky;
And I’ll be with you by-and-by