There liv'd a sage in days of yore
And he a handsome pigtail wore
But wonder'd much and sorrow'd more
Because it hung behind him

He mus'd 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

Says he 'The mystery I've found
I'll turn me round,' he turn'd him round
(He turn'd him round, he turn'd 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 matter'd not a pin
The pigtail hung behind him

And right and left, and round about
And up and down, and in and out
He turn'd, but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him.

And though his efforts never slack
And though he twist, and twirl, and take
Alas, still faithful to his back
The pigtail hangs behind him