Mary Ann Hoberman

The folk who live in Backward Town Are inside out and upside down. They wear their hats inside their heads And go to sleep beneath their beds. They only eat the apple peeling And take their walks across the ceiling.

Look at them flit Lickety-split Wiggling Swiggling Swerving Curving Hurrying Scurrying Chasing Racing Whizzing Whisking Flying Frisking Tearing around With a leap and a bound But none of them making the tiniest tiniest tiniest tiniest tiniest sound

I had a little brother And I brought him to my mother And I said I want another Little brother for a change. But she said don’t be a bother So I took him to my father And I said this little bother Of a brother’s very strange. But he said one little brother Is exactly like another And every little brother Misbehaves a bit he said. So I took the little bother From my mother and my father And I put the little bother Of a brother back to bed.