2em">  Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye,
  Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie:
  When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing;
  And wasn't this a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in the parlour, counting out his money;
The queen was in the kitchen, eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes,
There came a little blackbird and nipt off her nose.

Lady-bird, Lady-bird
Fly away home,
Your house is on fire,
Your children will burn.

One, Two—buckle my shoe;
Three, Four—open the door;
Five, Six—pick up sticks;
Seven, Eight—lay them straight;
Nine, Ten—a good fat hen.
Eleven, Twelve—I hope you're well;
Thirteen, Fourteen—draw the curtain;
Fifteen, Sixteen—the maid's in the kitchen;
Seventeen, Eighteen—she's in waiting.
Nineteen, Twenty—my stomach's empty.

       Snail, Snail,
       Come out of your hole,
Or else I'll beat you black as a coal.
       Snail, Snail,
       Put out your head,
Or else I'll beat you till you're dead.

The man in the moon came down too soon
    To inquire the way to Norridge;
The man in the South, he burnt his mouth
    With eating cold plum porridge.

When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon a shelf;
The rats and the mice, they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife.
The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow;
The wheelbarrow broke, and my wife had a fall,
And down came the wheelbarrow, wife and all.

Charley Wag,
Ate the pudding and left the bag.

  Sing, Sing!—What shall I sing?
The Cat's run away with the Pudding-Bag String.

When I was a little boy, I washed my mammy's dishes,
Now I am a great boy I roll in golden riches.

Bye, Baby bunting,
Father's gone a hunting,
  Mother's gone a milking,
  Sister's gone a silking,
And Brother's gone to buy a skin
To wrap the Baby bunting in.

'Twas once upon a time, when Jenny Wren was young,
So daintily she danced and so prettily she sung,
Robin Redbreast lost his heart, for he was a gallant bird;
So he doffed his hat to Jenny Wren, requesting to be heard.

O, dearest Jenny Wren, if you will but be mine,
You shall feed on cherry-pie and drink new currant wine,
I'll dress you like a goldfinch or any peacock gay;
So, dearest Jen, if you'll be mine, let us appoint the day.

Jenny blushed behind her fan and thus declared her mind:
Since, dearest Bob, I love you well, I take your offer kind;
Cherry-pie is very nice and so is currant wine,
But I must wear my plain brown gown and never go too fine.

Cushy Cow bonny, let down your milk,
And I will give you a gown of silk,
  A gown of silk and a silver tee,
  If you'll let down your milk to me.

There were two blind men went to see
  Two cripples run a race,
The bull did fight the humblebee
  And scratched him in the face.

Fa, Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!
I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Be he live or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make me bread.

Richard and Robin were two pretty men;
They laid abed till the clock struck ten;
Robin starts up and looks at the sky,
Oh ho! brother Richard, the sun's very high,
Do you go before with the bottle and bag,
And I'll follow after on little Jack Nag.

Round about, round about,
   Gooseberry Pie,
My father loves good ale,
   And so do I.

We'll go to the wood, says Richard to Robin,
We'll go to the wood, says Robin to Bobin,
We'll go to the wood, says John all alone,
We'll go to the wood, says every one.

What to do there? says Richard to Robin,
What to do there? says Robin to Bobin,
What to do there? says John all alone,
What to do there? says every one.

We'll shoot at a wren, says Richard to Robin,
We'll shoot at a wren, says Robin to Bobin,
We'll shoot at a wren, says John all alone,
We'll shoot at a wren, says every one.

Then pounce, then pounce, says Richard to Robin,
Then pounce, then pounce, says Robin to Bobin,
Then pounce, then pounce, says John all alone,
Then pounce, then pounce, says every one.

She's dead, she's dead, says Richard to Robin,
She's dead, she's dead, says Robin to Bobin,
She's dead, she's dead, says John all alone,
She's dead, she's dead, says every one.

How get her home? says Richard to Robin,
How get her home? says Robin to Bobin,
How get her home? says John all alone,
How get her home? says every one.

In a cart and six horses, says Richard to Robin,
In a cart and six horses, says Robin to Bobin,
In a cart and six horses, says John all alone,
In a cart and six horses, says every one.

How shall we dress her? says Richard to Robin,
How shall we dress her? says Robin to Bobin,
How shall we dress her? says John all alone,
How shall we dress her? says every one.

We'll hire seven cooks, says Richard to Robin,
We'll hire seven cooks, says Robin to Bobin,
We'll hire seven cooks, says John all alone,
We'll hire seven cooks, says every one.

There was an old woman lived under the hill,
And if she's not gone she lives there still.
Baked apples she sold, and cranberry pies,
And she's the old woman that never told lies.

    Shoe the colt,
    Shoe the colt,
Shoe the wild mare;
    Here a nail,
    There a nail,
Colt must go bare.

There were two birds upon a stone,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
One flew away, and then there was one,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
The other flew after, and then there was none,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
So the poor stone was left all alone,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
One of these little birds back again flew,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
The other came after, and then there were two,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
Says one to the other, Pray how do you do,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.
Very well, thank you, and pray how are you,
               Fal de ral—al de ral—laddy.

  I'll tell you a story
  About Mary Morey,
And now my story's