There was an old woman tossed up in a basket
Seventy 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,
“O whither, o whither, o whither so high?”
“To sweep up the cobwebs from the sky
And I’ll be with you by and by!”
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