There once was a traveller named  __ __ __ __ .

(It's easy to say, but not easy to write.)

He'd often chant stories in musical verse,

A style that is verging on boring, (but worse,)

And he'd talk, if you'd listen, well into the night,

That mischievous, marvellous __ __ __ __

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His stories were sprinkled with liberal smells.

There really is scents to the nonsense he tells,

And if you felt cold, then a yarn he would spin,

That would keep you wrapped up from the end to begin.

Then he'd throw you a line, and you'd fly like a kite.

A wonderful showman was __ __ __ __!

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                                                                    by Peet