The Moon

The Moon is like a big round cheese
That shines above the garden trees,
And like a cheese grows less each night,
As though some one had had a bite.

The Mouse delights to nibble cheese,
The Dog bites anything he sees—
But how could they bite off the Moon
Unless they went in a balloon?

And Human People, when they eat
They think it rude to bite their meat,
They use a Knife or Fork or Spoon;
Who is it then that bites the moon?