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?