Traditional Nursery Songs of England Part 4

He'll sit in a barn, And keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing.

Poor thing!

There was a little boy went into a barn, And lay down on some hay; An owl came out and flew about, And the little boy ran away.

There was a little guinea pig, Who being little was not big; He always walked upon his feet, And never fasted when he ate.

When from a place he ran away, He never at that place did stay; And while he ran, as I am told, He ne'er stood still for young or old.

He often squeak'd, and sometimes violent, And when he squeak'd he ne'er was silent; Though ne'er instructed by a cat, He knew a mouse was not a rat.

One day, as I am certified, He took a whim and fairly died, And, as I'm told by men of sense, He never has been living since.

There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead; He went to the brook And saw a little duck, And he shot it through the head, head, head.

He carried it home To his old wife Joan, And bid her a fire for to make, make, make; To roast the little duck, He had shot in the brook, And he'd go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake.

There was a man of our town, And he was wondrous wise: He jump'd into a bramble bush, And scratched out both his eyes; And when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main, He jumped into another bush, And scratched them in again.

There was an old man, And he had a calf; And that's half: He took him out of the stall, And put him on the wall; And that's all.

There was an old woman went up in a basket, Seventy times as high as the moon; What she did there I could not but ask it, For in her hand she carried a broom.

"Old woman, old woman, old woman," said I, "Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?"

"Only to sweep the cobwebs off the sky, And I shall be back again by and by."

There was an old woman, and what do you think?

She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink; Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet, And yet this old woman could never be quiet.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children she didn't know what to do; She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

There was an old woman lived under a hill, And if she ben't gone, she lives there still.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD WOMAN, OLD WOMAN, OLD WOMAN SAID I, WHITHER, OH WHITHER, OH WHITHER SO HIGH?]

There was an old woman had three sons, Jeffery, Jemmy, and John; Jeffery was hung, and Jemmy was drowned, And Johnny was never more found: So there was an end of these three sons, Jeffery, Jemmy, and John.

There were two little birds sat on a stone, Fal la, la la lal de.

One flew away, and then there was one, Fal la, la la lal de.

The other flew after, and then there was none, Fal la, la la lal de.

So the poor stone was left all alone, Fal la, la la lal de.

1. This little pig went to market; 2. This little pig stayed at home; 3. This little pig had a bit of bread and b.u.t.ter; 4. This little pig had none; 5. This little pig said "Wee, wee, wee,"

I can't find my way home!

_Note._ Addressed to the five toes.

Three children sliding on the ice, Upon a summer's day; It so fell out, they all fell in, The rest they ran away.

Now had these children been at home, Or sliding on dry ground, Ten thousand pounds to one penny, They had not all been drowned.

You parents that have children dear, And eke you that have none; If you would have them safe abroad, Pray keep them safe at home.

Three little dogs were basking in the cinders; Three little cats were playing in the windows; Three little mice popped out of a hole, And a piece of cheese they stole.

The three little cats jumped down in a trice, And cracked the bones of the three little mice.

To market, to market, to buy a plum bun, Home again, home again, market is done.

Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig and away he ran.

The pig was ate, and Tom was beat, And Tom ran crying down the street.

Two little blackbirds sat upon a hill, One named Jack, the other named Gill; Fly away, Jack; fly away, Gill; Come again, Jack; come again, Gill.

Up the hill urge me not, Down the hill ride me not, Along the level spare me not, In the stable forget me not.

When I was a batchelor, I lived by myself, And all the bread and cheese I got, I put upon the shelf.

The rats and the mice they made such a strife, I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife: The roads were so bad, and the lanes were so narrow, I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheel-barrow.

The wheel-barrow broke, and my wife had a fall, Down came wheel-barrow, wife and all.

THE END.

C. WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK.

_Felix Summerly's Home Treasury_ of Books and Pictures, purposed to cultivate the Affections, Fancy, Imagination, and Taste of Children.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Felix Summerly crest]