I walk across the grass
And read the stone
A question I ask
Were they alone

Did they die at peace
Or was the world tough
Was death a release
Had they just had enough

I know it seems morbid
To think in that way
People probably think it's horrid
What my mind has to say

When I think of the lives
It hurts me inside
Pretty flowers are left
For people who have died

I pass through the iron gates
To see who's around
What does my future hold
Before I go underground

There was a Young Lady of Portugal,
Whose ideas were excessively nautical:
She climbed up a tree,
To examine the sea,
But declared she would never leave Portugal.

There was a young lady in white,
Who looked out at the depths of the night;
But the birds of the air,
Filled her heart with despair,
And oppressed that young lady in white.

There was an old man in a barge,
Whose nose was exceedingly large;
But in fishing by night,
It supported a light,
Which helped that old man in a barge.

There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who watched his wife making a stew;
But once by mistake,
In a stove she did bake,
That unfortunate Man of Peru.

There was an Old Person of Chili,
Whose conduct was painful and silly,
He sate on the stairs,
Eating apples and pears,
That imprudent Old Person of Chili.

I

  Calico Pie,
  The little Birds fly
Down to the calico tree,
  Their wings were blue,
  And they sang 'Tilly-loo!'
  Till away they flew,--
    And they never came back to me!
      They never came back!
      They never came back!
    They never came back to me!

II

  Calico Jam,
  The little Fish swam,
Over the syllabub sea,
    He took off his hat,
  To the Sole and the Sprat,
  And the Willeby-Wat,--
But he never came back to me!
  He never came back!
  He never came back!
He never came back to me!

III

  Calico Ban,
  The little Mice ran,
To be ready in time for tea,
  Flippity flup,
  They drank it all up,
  And danced in the cup,--
But they never came back to me!
  They never came back!
  They never came back!
They never came back to me!

IV

  Calico Drum,
  The Grasshoppers come,
The Butterfly, Beetle, and Bee,
  Over the ground,
  Around and around,
  With a hop and a bound,--
But they never came back to me!
  They never came back!
  They never came back!
They never came back to me!

There was an old person of Nice,
Whose associates were usually Geese.
They walked out together,
In all sorts of weather.
That affable person of Nice.