There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Seventy times as high as the moon.
What she did there I could not but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.
"Old woman, old woman, old woman," said I,
"Oh whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?"
"To sweep the cobwebs off the sky,
And I shall be back again by and by."