A Song About Myself

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I.
There was a naughty boy,
  A naughty boy was he,
He would not stop at home,
  He could not quiet be-
  He took
  In his knapsack
  A book
  Full of vowels
  And a shirt
  With some towels,
  A slight cap
  For night cap,
  A hair brush,
  Comb ditto,
  New stockings
  For old ones
  Would split O!
  This knapsack
  Tight at's back
  He rivetted close
  And followed his nose
  To the north,
  To the north,
  And follow'd his nose
  To the north.

II.
There was a naughty boy
  And a naughty boy was he,
For nothing would he do
  But scribble poetry-
  He took
  An ink stand
  In his hand
  And a pen
  Big as ten
  In the other,
  And away
  In a pother
  He ran
  To the mountains
  And fountains
  And ghostes
  And postes
  And witches
  And ditches
  And wrote
  In his coat
  When the weather
  Was cool,
  Fear of gout,
  And without
  When the weather
  Was warm-
  Och the charm
  When we choose
  To follow one's nose
  To the north,
  To the north,
  To follow one's nose
  To the north!

III.
There was a naughty boy
  And a naughty boy was he,
He kept little fishes
  In washing tubs three
  In spite
  Of the might
  Of the maid
  Nor afraid
  Of his Granny-good-
  He often would
  Hurly burly
  Get up early
  And go
  By hook or crook
  To the brook
  And bring home
  Miller's thumb,
  Tittlebat
  Not over fat,
  Minnows small
  As the stall
  Of a glove,
  Not above
  The size
  Of a nice
  Little baby's
  Little fingers-
  O he made
  'Twas his trade
  Of fish a pretty kettle
  A kettle-
  A kettle
  Of fish a pretty kettle
  A kettle!

IV.
There was a naughty boy,
  And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
  The people for to see-
  There he found
  That the ground
  Was as hard,
  That a yard
  Was as long,
  That a song
  Was as merry,
  That a cherry
  Was as red,
  That lead
  Was as weighty,
  That fourscore
  Was as eighty,
  That a door
  Was as wooden
  As in England-
  So he stood in his shoes
  And he wonder'd,
  He wonder'd,
  He stood in his
  Shoes and he wonder'd.

© John Keats