The ugliest in the street;
  Bakers' are warm, cobblers' dark,
     Chemists' burn watery lights;
  But oh, the sawdust butcher's shop,
     That ugliest of sights!

THE DUNCE

  Why does he still keep ticking?
     Why does his round white face
  Stare at me over the books and ink,
     And mock at my disgrace?
  Why does that thrush call, 'Dunce, dunce, dunce!'?
     Why does that bluebottle buzz?
  Why does the sun so silent shine? —
     And what do I care if it does?

CHICKEN

  Clapping her platter stood plump Bess,
     And all across the green
  Came scampering in, on wing and claw,
     Chicken fat and lean:
  Dorking, Spaniard, Cochin China,
     Bantams sleek and small,
  Like feathers blown in a great wind,
     They came at Bessie's call.

SOME ONE

  Some one came knocking
     At my wee, small door;
  Some one came knocking,
     I'm sure - sure - sure;
  I listened, I opened,
     I looked to left and right,
  But naught there was a-stirring
     In the still dark night;
  Only the busy beetle
     Tap-tapping in the wall,
  Only from the forest
     The screech-owl's call,
  Only the cricket whistling
     While the dewdrops fall,
  So I know not who came knocking,
  At all, at all, at all.

BREAD AND CHERRIES

  'Cherries, ripe cherries!'
     The old woman cried,
  In her snowy white apron,
     And basket beside;
  And the little boys came,
     Eyes shining, cheeks red,
  To buy a bag of cherries,
  To eat with their bread.

OLD SHELLOVER

  'Come!' said Old Shellover.
  'What?' says Creep.
  'The horny old Gardener's fast asleep;
  The fat cock Thrush
  To his nest has gone;
  And the dew shines bright
  In the rising Moon;
  Old Sallie Worm from her hole doth peep:
  Come!' said Old Shellover.
  'Aye!' said Creep.

HAPLESS

  Hapless, hapless, I must be
  All the hours of life I see,
  Since my foolish nurse did once
  Bed me on her leggen bones;
  Since my mother did not weel
  To snip my nails with blades of steel.
  Had they laid me on a pillow
  In a cot of water willow,
  Had they bitten finger and thumb,
  Not to such ill hap I had come.

THE LITTLE BIRD

  My dear Daddie bought a mansion
     For to bring my Mammie to,
  In a hat with a long feather,
     And a trailing gown of blue;
  And a company of fiddlers
     And a rout of maids and men
  Danced the clock round to the morning,
     In a gay house-warming then.
  And when all the guests were gone, and
     All was still as still can be,
  In from the dark ivy hopped a
     Wee small bird: and that was Me.

CAKE AND SACK

  Old King Caraway
     Supped on cake,
  And a cup of sack
     His thirst to slake;
  Bird in arras
     And hound in hall
  Watched very softly
     Or not at all;
  Fire in the middle,
     Stone all round
  Changed not, heeded not,
     Made no sound;
  All by himself
     At the Table High
  He'd nibble and sip
     While his dreams slipped by;
  And when he had finished,
     He'd nod and say,
  'Cake and sack
     For King Caraway!'

THE SHIP OF RIO

  There was a ship of Rio
     Sailed out into the blue,
  And nine and ninety monkeys
     Were all her jovial crew.
  From bo'sun to the cabin boy,
     From quarter to caboose,
  There weren't a stitch of calico
     To breech 'em - tight or loose;
  From spar to deck, from deck to keel,
     From barnacle to shroud,
  There weren't one pair of reach-me-downs
     To all that jabbering crowd.
  But wasn't it a gladsome sight,
     When roared the deep sea gales,
  To see them reef her fore and aft
     A-swinging by their tails!
  Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight,
     When glassy calm did come,
  To see them squatting tailor-wise
     Around a keg of rum!
  Oh, wasn't it a gladsome sight,
     When in she sailed to land,
  To see them all a-scampering skip
     For nuts across the sand!

TILLIE

  Old Tillie Turveycombe
  Sat to sew,
  Just where a patch of fern did grow;
  There, as she yawned,
  And yawn wide did she,
  Floated some seed
  Down her gull-e-t;
  And look you once,
  And look you twice,
  Poor old Tillie
  Was gone in a trice.
  But oh, when the wind
  Do a-moaning come,
  'Tis poor old Tillie
  Sick for home;
  And oh, when a voice
  In the mist do sigh,
  Old Tillie Turveycombe's
  Floating by.

JIM JAY

  Do diddle di do,
     Poor Jim Jay
  Got stuck fast
     In Yesterday.
  Squinting he was,
     On Cross-legs bent,
  Never heeding
     The wind was spent.
  Round veered the weathercock,
     The sun drew in -
  And stuck was Jim
     Like a rusty pin…
  We pulled and we pulled
     From seven till twelve,
  Jim, too frightened
     To help himself.
  But all in vain.
     The clock struck one,
  And there was Jim
     A little bit gone.
  At half-past five
     You scarce could see
  A glimpse of his flapping
     Handkerchee.
  And when came noon,
     And we climbed sky-high,
  Jim was a speck
     Slip - slipping by.
  Come to-morrow,
     The neighbours say,
  He'll be past crying for;
     Poor Jim Jay.

MISS T.

  It's a very odd thing ——-
     As odd as can be —-
  That whatever Miss T. eats
     Turns into Miss T.;
  Porridge and apples,
     Mince, muffins and mutton,
  Jam, junket, jumbles ——
     Not a rap, not a button
  It matters; the moment
     They're out of her plate,
  Though shared by Miss Butcher
     And sour Mr. Bate;
  Tiny and cheerful,
     And neat as can be,
  Whatever Miss T. eats
     Turns into Miss T.

THE CUPBOARD

  I know a little cupboard,
  With a teeny tiny key,
  And there's a jar of Lollypops
        For me,