There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Seventeen times as high as the moon;
Where she was going I could not but ask it,
For in her hand 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.”