Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories - LightNovelsOnl.com
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I make a little feast Of food soft and sweet, I hold it in my breast, And coax it to eat;
I pit, and I pat, I call this and that, And I sing about so cheerly, With "Hey, my little bird, And ho! my little bird, And oh! but I love thee dearly!"
SYDNEY DOBELL
THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF c.o.c.k ROBIN
Who killed c.o.c.k Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed c.o.c.k Robin."
Who saw him die?
"I," said the Fly, "With my little eye, I saw him die."
Who caught his blood?
"I," said the Fish, "With my little dish, I caught his blood."
Who'll make his shroud?
"I," said the Beetle, "With my thread and needle, I'll make his shroud."
Who'll bear the torch?
"I," said the Linnet, "I'll come in a minute, I'll bear the torch."
Who'll be the clerk?
"I," said the Lark, "I'll say Amen in the dark; I'll be the clerk."
Who'll dig his grave?
"I," said the Owl, "With my spade and trowel, I'll dig his grave."
Who'll be the parson?
"I," said the Rook, "With my little book, I'll be the parson."
Who'll be chief mourner?
"I," said the Dove, "I mourn for my love; I'll be chief mourner."
Who'll sing his dirge?
"I," said the Thrush, "As I sing in a bush, I'll sing his dirge."
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STARS?
Do you know how many stars There are s.h.i.+ning in the skies?
Do you know how many clouds Ev'ry day go floating by?
G.o.d in heaven has counted all, He would miss one should it fall.
Do you know how many children Go to little beds at night, And without a care or sorrow, Wake up in the morning light?
G.o.d in heaven each name can tell, Loves you, too, and loves you well.
WHERE DO ALL THE DAISIES GO?
Where do all the daisies go?
I know, I know!
Underneath the snow they creep, Nod their little heads and sleep, In the springtime out they peep; That is where they go!
Where do all the birdies go?
I know, I know!
Far away from winter snow To the fair, warm South they go; There they stay till daisies blow, That is where they go!
Where do all the babies go?
I know, I know!
In the glancing firelight warm, Safely sheltered from all harm, Soft they lie on mother's arm, That is where they go!
UNKNOWN
c.o.c.k crows in the morn, To tell us to rise, And he who lies late Will never be wise.
For early to bed, And early to rise, Is the way to be healthy And wealthy and wise.
THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow with the crumpled horn That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
