There lived a sage in days of yore
And he a handsome pigtail wore
But wondered much and sorrowed more
Because it hung behind him

He mused upon this curious case
And swore he'd change the pigtail's place
And have it hanging at his face
Not dangling there behind him

Say he, "The mystery I've found
I'll turn me round," - he turned him round
But still it hung behind him

Then round and round, and out and in
All day the puzzled sage did spin
In vain - it mattered not a pin -
The pigtail hung behind him

And right and left and round about
And up and down and in and out
He turned; but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him

And though his efforts never slack
And though he twist and twirl, and tack
Alas! Still faithful to his back
The pigtail hangs