National Rhymes of the Nursery Part 4

_There was a little Guinea-pig_

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

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 vi'lent, 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.

_Little Miss m.u.f.fet_

Little Miss m.u.f.fet, She sat on a tuffet, Eating of curds and whey;

There came a spider, And sat down beside her, And frightened Miss m.u.f.fet away.

_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.

This is the c.o.c.k that crowed in the morn, That waked 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.

This is the farmer sowing his corn, That kept the c.o.c.k that crowed in the morn, That waked 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 the house that Jack built.

_Handy-Spandy_

Handy-Spandy, Jack-a-dandy, Loves plum-cake and sugar-candy.

He bought some at a grocer's shop, And pleased, away he went, hop, hop, hop.

_Doctor Foster_

Doctor Foster went to Glo'ster, In a shower of rain;

He stepped in a puddle, up to his middle, And never went there again.

_Little Boy Blue_

Little Boy Blue, come blow up your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn; Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?

He's under the hay-c.o.c.k fast asleep.

Will you wake him? No, not I; For if I do, he'll be sure to cry.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE'S UNDER THE HAY-c.o.c.k FAST ASLEEP."]

_As I was going to St. Ives_

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits: Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were there going to St. Ives?

_Cushy cow bonny_

Cushy cow bonny, Let down thy milk, And I will give thee a gown of silk; A gown of silk and a silver tee, If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.

_A carrion crow_

A carrion crow sat on an oak, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do, Watching a tailor shape his coat; Sing heigh ho, the carrion crow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do.

Wife, bring me my old bent bow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do, That I may shoot yon carrion crow; Sing heigh ho, the carrion crow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do.

The tailor he shot and missed his mark, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do, And shot his own sow quite through the heart; Sing heigh ho, the carrion crow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do.

_Jack Sprat_

Jack Sprat could eat no fat, His wife could eat no lean;

And so, betwixt them both, [you see]

They licked the platter clean.

_The Cuckoo_

The cuckoo's a fine bird, He sings as he flies; He brings us good tidings.

He tells us no lies.

He sucks little birds' eggs, To make his voice clear; And when he sings "cuckoo!"

The summer is near.