Granny
Through every nook and every cranny,
The wind blew in on poor old Granny;
Around her knees, into each ear
And up her nose as well, I fear.
All through the night the wind grew worse,
It nearly made the vicar curse.
The top had fallen off the steeple,
Just missing him (and other people).
It blew on man, it blew on beast,
It blew on a nun, it blew on a priest,
It blew the wig off Aunty Fanny,
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
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