`Twas brillig, and the hungry bears
Did gyre and gimble in their bowl:
All mimsy were the bearogoves,
And the mome raths outstroll.
“Beware the Goldilocks, my son!
The fist that knocks, the sniffing nose!
Beware the open door, and in
The Goldilocks she goes!”
She took a vorpal spoon in hand:
Long time the porridge bowl she sought —
Then tasted she of the first of three,
But oh, it was too hot.
And so she tried the second bowl,
Too cold. And then the third, ate all.
And then three chairs, too hard, too soft,
And one that caused her fall!
One, two! One, two! These beds won’t do.
The third, just right. She hit the sack.
And while she slept, those wandering bears,
They came galumphing back.
“And, who did eat the porridge? It’s
All gone. And who did break a chair?
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
Could that be her right there?
`Twas brillig, and the slithy bears
Did gyre and gimble by the bed;
All mimsy was the Goldilocks,
And home she up-fled.