Twenty-four tailors march out to kill a snail, and every one of them loses his nerve when she waves her horns. A well-loved joke at the tailors' expense, and the snail comes out on top.
From Mother Goose / Nursery Rhymes (traditional). See the whole collection.
Four and Twenty tailors
Went to kill a snail;
The best man among them
Durst not touch her tail;
She put out her horns
Like a little Kyloe cow.
Run, tailors, run, or
She'll kill you all e'en now.
Public domain. Text from The Real Mother Goose (Blanche Fisher Wright, 1916), via Project Gutenberg. View the source edition