There was an old woman tossed in a blanket,Seventeen times as high as the moon;
But where she was going no mortal could tell,
For under her arm she carried a broom.
Old woman, old woman, old woman, said I,
Whither, ah whither, ah wither so high?
To sweep the cobwebs from the sky,
And I'll be with you by and by.
Anonymous
Apparently, brooms have been the subject of great writing for a very long time.