There was an old woman tossed up in a basket

Nineteen times as high as the moon;

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 brush the cobwebs off the sky!'

'Shall I go with thee?'

'Aye, by and by.'