What a pretty bunch of flowersLittle Annie’s gotDid they grow in the meadows,Or in a flower-pot?They grew in the wood,In the deep, deep shade,Where little Annie plucked them,And this nose-gay made.This goose got in the house,He’d the courage of a mouse,So he quacked, and he hissed at the kitten;But as she stood at bay,He quickly ran away;Afraid of being scratched as well as bitten.THE ROBIN IN WINTER.Little Robin, welcome here,Welcome to my frugal cheer;Winter chills thy mossy bed,Come then daily, and be fed.Little Robin, fear no harm,Dread not here the least alarm;All will share with you their bread,Come then daily, and be fed.Little Robin, let thy songNow and then thy stay prolong;We will give thee food instead,Come then daily, and be fed.FOUR LITTLE BOYS.Come, let us play,Said Tommy Gay;Well, then, What atSaid Simon Pratt;At trap and ball,Said Neddy Hall;Well, so we will,Said Billy Gill.For cakes I’ll play,Said Tommy Gay;I’m one for that,Said Simon Pratt;I’ll bring them all,Said Neddy Hall;And I’ll sit still,Said Billy Gill.What a hot day,Said Tommy Gay;Then let us chat,Said Simon Pratt;On yonder hill,Said Billy Gill;Aye, one and all,Said Neddy Hall.Come with me, pray,Said Tommy Gay;Trust me for that,Said Simon Pratt;They eat them all,Gay, Pratt, and Hall;And all were ill,But Billy Gill.The Little Fish that would not do as it was bid.Dear mother, said a little Fish,Pray, is not that a fly?I’m very hungry, and I wishYou’d let me go and try.Sweet innocent, the mother cried,And started from her nook,That horrid fly is put to hideThe sharpness of the hook!Now, as I’ve heard, this little TroutWas young and foolish too,And so he thought he’d venture out,To see if it were true.And round about the hook he played,With many a longing look,And, Dear me, to himself he saidI’m sure, that’s not ahook.I can but give one little pluck:Let’s see; and so I will.So on he went, and lo, it stuckQuite through his little gill.And as he faint and fainter grew,With hollow voice he cried,Dear mother, if I’d minded you,I need not now have died.Thoughtless Julia.Julia did in the window stand;Mama then sitting by,Saw her put out her little hand,And try to catch a fly.O do not hurt the pretty thing,Her prudent mother said;Crush not its leg or feeble wing,So beautifully made.YOUNG SOLDIERS.Hey, rub-a-dub, dub! here come the boys,For the Soldiers all make way;Young Robinet at their head is setAll dressed as warrior gay.See how he swings his bright tin sword,To his followers behind;While from his cap a squirrel’s tailFlies streaming in the wind.This is good fun, my merry boys,To see you I am glad;But mind you, in reality,War is a business bad.—Here’s old Ben Bolt, a soldier brave,Who lost his legs in war;With crutch and cane, he hobbles ’roundAnd shows you many a scar.In scenes of fearful blood and strife,Ah! many low are lain,And many a young and gallant heartIs numbered with the slain.LEARNING BY HEART.’Tis time that my baby should learnWhat so oft he has heard, to repeat,So shall he some sugar-plums earn;Then let us begin, my Sweet.For baby is three years old,And has senses and memory too,A great many things he’s been told,And he can remember a few.He can tell me, I know, a few things,Of the garden, the sky, and the weather;That a bird has two legs and two wings,But he cannot say ten lines together.Then let us, my baby, begin,And try these few lines here to learn,It will not be a difficult thing,And then he’ll some sugar-plums earn.IMPROVEMENT.Another story, Mother dear,Did young Maria say;You read so nice, so loud and clear,—Another story, pray.I love that book, I do indeed,So take it up again;I think Iseethe things you read,You make it all so plain.What would I give to read like you,Why nothing comes amiss!O, any thing I’ll gladly do,If you will teach me this.Maria, then, must learn to spell,If she would read like me;She soon may learn to read as well;O, that I will, said she.THE LITTLE COWARD.Why here’s a foolish little man!Laugh at him, Donkey, if you can:And Cat and Dog, and Cow and CalfCome, ev’ry one of you and laugh!For, only think, he runs away,If honest Donkey does but bray;And when the Bull begins to bellowHe’s like a crazy little fellow!Poor Brindle Cow can hardly passAlong the hedge to nip the grass,Or wag her tail to lash the flies,But off the little booby hies!And when old Tray comes running too,With bow, wow, wow, for how d’ye do,And means it all for civil play,’Tis sure to make him run away!But all the while you’re thinking, may beAh! well, but this must be a baby.O, cat and dog, and cow and calf,I’m not surpris’d to see you laugh,He’s five years old, and almost half!Idle Children.Children who with idle habitsFrom the school-room haste away,Wishing out of doors to rambleEre they do their lessons say—They shall have no tasks or reading,But they must to school be sent,Because they are a bad life leading,And this shall be their punishment.But those who quickly say their lessons,By mama shall still be taught,And afterwards, nice stories telling,Shall hear the books papa has bought.THE LITTLE GIRL THAT BEAT HER SISTER.Go, go, my naughty girl, and kissYour little sister dear;I must not have such things as this,Nor noisy quarrels hear.What! little children scold and fight,That ought to be so mild;O Mary, ’tis a shocking sightTo see an angry child.I can’t imagine, for my part,The reason of your folly:As if she did you any hurt,By playing with your dolly!See, how the little tears do runFast from her watery eye;Come, my sweet innocent, have done,’Twill do no good to cry.Go, Mary, wipe her tears away,And make it up with kisses;And never turn a pretty playTo such a pet as this is.A VERY GOOD BOY.Mama, my head (poor William said)So very badly aches,Tell Brother there, I cannot bearThe tiresome noise he makes.I’m sure, said John, if I had known,Dear Brother, you were ill,I would have read, or drawn, instead,And have remain’d quite still.Good boys, said she, O ever beThus kind to one another;I am, my dear, much pleased to hearYour answer to your Brother.THE PLUM CAKE.Let us buy,Said Sally Fry;Something nice,Said Betsy Price;What shall it be?Said Kitty Lee;A nice plum cake,Said Lucy Wake.A piece for me,Said Kitty Lee;A slice I’ll take,Said Lucy Wake;Give me a slice,Said Betsy Price;All by-and-by,Said Sally Fry.I’ll save some cake,Said Lucy Wake;And so will I,Said Sally Fry;Well, I’ll agree,Said Kitty Lee;’Twill do for twice,Said Betsy Price.A piece with ice,Said Betsy Price;I’ll put some by,Said Sally Fry;The third for me,Said Kitty Lee;The fourth I’ll takeSaid Lucy Wake.THE GIDDY GIRL.Miss Helen was always too giddy to heedWhat her mother had told her to shun;For frequently, over the street in full speed,She would cross where the carriages run.And out she would go to a very deep well,To look at the water below;How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,Where her mother forbade her to go!One morning, intending to take but one peep,Her foot slipt away from the ground;Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep,And giddy Miss Helen was drown’d.THE FLOWER AND THE LITTLE MISS.About getting up.Pretty Flower, tell me whyAll your leaves do open wide,Every morning, when on highThe noble sun begins to ride?This is why, my lady fair,If you would the reason know,For betimes the pleasant airVery cheerfully doth blow.And the birds on every treeSing a merry, merry tune;And the busy honey beeComes to suck my sugar soon.This is all the reason whyI my little leaves undo.Little Miss, come wake and try,If I have not told you true.THE KITE.John WhiteFlew his kite,On a boisterous day,A galeBroke the tail,And it soon flew away.And whileOn a stile,He sat sighing and sad,Charley GrayCame that way,A good natured lad.“Don’t cry;Wipe your eye,”Said he, “little Jack;Stay here;Never fear,And I’ll soon bring it back.”To the stile,With a smile,He presently broughtThe kite,And John WhiteThanked him much, as he ought.Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair.Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Let me taste your ware.”Says the pieman to Simple Simon,“Show me first your penny.”Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Indeed, I have not any.”Simple Simon went a-fishing,For to catch a whale;All the water he had got,Was in his mother’s pail.Simple Simon went to lookIf plums grew on a thistle,He pricked his fingers very much,Which made poor Simon whistle.Then Simple Simon went a-hunting,For to catch a hare;He rode on a goat about the street,But could not find one there.He went for water in a sieveBut soon it all run through;And now poor Simple SimonBids you all adieu!I had a little hobby horse,And it was dapple grey,Its head was made of pea-straw,Its tail was made of hay.I sold it to an old womanFor a copper groat;And I’ll not sing my song againWithout a new coat.He that would thrive,Must rise at five;He that hath thriven,May lie till seven;And he that by the plough would thrive,Himself must either hold or drive.Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,Stole a pig and away he run;The pig was eat,And Tom was beat,And Tom ran crying down the street.A Farmer went trotting upon his grey mare,Bumpety bumpety bump,With his daughter behind him so rosy and fair,Lumpety lumpety lump.A raven cried croak, and they all tumbled downBumpety bumpety bump;The mare broke her knees and the farmer his crown,Lumpety lumpety lump.The mischievous raven flew laughing away,Bumpety bumpety bump,And vowed he would serve them the same next day,Lumpety lumpety lump.Old woman, old woman, shall we go a-shearing?Speak a little louder, sir, I am very thick o’ hearing.Old woman, old woman, shall I kiss you dearly?Thank you, kind sir, I hear very clearly.Little Tommy TittlemouseLived in a little house;He caught fishesIn other men’s ditches.Little Miss MuffettShe sat on a tuffett,Eating of curds and whey;There came a little spiderWho sat down beside her,And frightened Miss Muffett away.Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,Stick, stock, stone, dead,Stick him up, stick him down,Stick him in the old man’s crown.Rain, rain,Go away,Come againApril day;Little JohnnyWants to play.Tom he was a Pi-per’s son,He learned to play when he was young;But all the tunes that he could play,Was “O-ver the hills and far away.”Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise,That he pleas-ed both the girls and boys,And they all stop-ped to hear him play,“O-ver the hills and far a-way.”Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,That those who heard him could ne-ver stand still;When-e-ver they heard him they be-gan to dance,Even pigs on their hind-legs would after him prance.He met old Dame Trott with a basket of eggs,He u-sed his pipe and she u-sed her legs;She danc-ed a-bout till the eggs were all broke,She be-gan to fret, but he laugh-ed at the joke.He saw a cross fel-low was beat-ing an ass,Hea-vy la-den with pots, pans, dish-es, and glass;He took out his pipe and play-ed them a tune,And the Jack-ass’s load was light-en-ed full soon.I had a little dog, they called him Buff,I sent him to the shop for a three cents worth of snuff:But he lost the bag, and spilt the snuff,So take that cuff, and that’s enough.Molly, my sister, and I fell out,And what do you think it was about?She loved coffee, and I loved tea,And that was the reason we couldn’t agree.Solomon Grundy,Born on a Monday,Christened on Tuesday,Married on Wednesday,Very ill on Thursday,Worse on Friday,Died on Saturday,Buried on Sunday,This is the endOf Solomon Grundy.Handy Spandy, Jack a-dandy,Loves plum-cake and sugar-candy;He bought some at a grocer’s shop,And out he came, hop-hop-hop.Go to bed Tom, go to bed Tom—Merry or sober, go to bed Tom.Mary had a pretty bird,Feathers bright and yellow,Slender legs, upon my wordHe was a pretty fellow.The sweetest notes he always sung,Which much delighted Mary,And often where the cage was hung,She stood to hear Canary.Lit-tle boy blue, come blow your horn;The sheep’s in the mea-dow, the cow’s in the corn.Where’s the lit-tle boy that looks af-ter the sheep?He’s un-der the hay-cock fast a-sleep.I had a lit-tle po-ny;They call-ed him dap-ple grey.I lent him to a lady,To ride a mile a-way.She whip-ped him, she slash-ed him,She rode him through the mire;I would not lend my po-ny now,For all the lady’s hire.Pe-ter WhiteWill ne’er go right,Would you know the rea-son why?He fol-lows his nose,Wher-ever he goes,And that stands all aw-ry.See, see. What shall I see?A horse’s head where his tail should be.I had a little hen, the prettiest ever seen,She washed me the dishes, and kept the house clean:She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,She brought it home in less than an hour,She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,She sat by the fire, and told many a fine tale.Ride a cock horseTo Ban-bu-ry Cross,To see lit-tle Jen-nyUp-on a white horse.Rings on her fin-gers,Bells on her toes,She shall have mu-sicWher-ever she goes.Pus-sy cat ate the dump-lings, the dump-lings;Pus-sy cat ate the dump-lings.Mam-ma stood by, and cried, “Oh, fie!Why did you eat the dump-lings?”I have a lit-tle sister; they call her Peep, Peep.She wades the wa-ter, deep, deep, deep;She climbs the moun-tains, high, high, high.Poor lit-tle thing! she has but one eye.1. This lit-tle pig went to mar-ket.2. This lit-tle pig stay-ed at home.3. This lit-tle pig got roast beef.4. This lit-tle pig got none.5. This lit-tle pig cried wee, wee,all the way home.One misty, moisty morning,When cloudy was the weather,I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.He began to compliment, and I began to grin,How do you do, and how do you do?And how do you do again?Father Short came down the lane,Oh! I’m obliged to hammer and smiteFrom four in the morning till eight at night,For a bad master and a worse dame.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 to these three sons,Jeffery, Jemmy and John.Hink, minx! the old witch winks,The fat begins to fry:There’s nobody at home but jumping Joan,Father, mother, and I.CLIMBING ON BACKS OF CHAIRS.What, climb on the back of a chair!O Henry, how can you do so?Sometime, if you do not take care,You will get a most terrible throw.Suppose grand-mama had got up,Pray what had become of you then?Indeed, my dear Henry, I hopeYou never will do so again.Your poor little teeth may be broke,Or your face get some terrible bruise,Indeed, and indeed, ’tis no joke,And you must not do just as you choose.For suppose there’s no danger at all,’Tis your duty to mind what I say;So I’ll punish you, Henry, next time,Youdaremy commands disobey.THE SQUIRREL.“The Squirrel is happy, the Squirrel is gay,”Little Mary once said to her brother;“He has nothing to do, or think of but play,And to jump from one bough to another.”The Squirrel, dear Mary, is merry and wise,For true wisdom and joy go together;He lays up in Summer his Winter supplies,And then he don’t mind the cold weather.THE SHEEP.Lazy Sheep, pray tell me whyIn the pleasant fields you lie,Eating grass and daisies white,From the morning till the night?Every thing can something do,But what kind of use are you?Nay, my little master, nay,Do not serve me so, I pray;Don’t you see the wool that growsOn my back, to make your clothes?Cold, and very cold you’d get,If I did not give you it.True, it seems a pleasant thingTo nip the daisies in the spring,But many chilly nights I passOn the cold and dewy grass,Or pick a scanty dinner whereAll the common’s brown and bare.Then the farmer comes at last,When the merry spring is past,And cuts my woolly coat away,To warm you in the winter’s day;Little master, this is whyIn the pleasant fields I lie.A PRESENT FOR ALFRED.Dear Alfred, I’ve a gift for you,A present from your Aunt;A prayer-book. Can you read it through?Said Alfred—No, I can’t.But if I teach you, will you tryTo learn, and sit quite still?And with your utmost power apply?Said Alfred—Yes, I will.THE FAIRING.Oh dear! what a beautiful DollMy sister has bought at the fair!She says I must call it “Miss Poll,”And make it a bonnet to wear.O pretty new Doll! it looks fine;Its cheeks are all cover’d with red;But, pray, will it always be mine?And, pray, may I take it to bed?How kind was my sister to buyThis Dolly, with hair that will curl!Perhaps, if you want to know why,She’ll tell you I’ve been a good girl.THE GOOD BOY.When Philip’s good mama was ill,The servant begg’d he would be still.Because the doctor and the nurseHad said that noise would make her worse.At night, when Philip went to bed,He kiss’d mama, and whisp’ring said,“My dear mama, I never willMake any noise when you are ill.”
What a pretty bunch of flowersLittle Annie’s gotDid they grow in the meadows,Or in a flower-pot?
They grew in the wood,In the deep, deep shade,Where little Annie plucked them,And this nose-gay made.
This goose got in the house,He’d the courage of a mouse,So he quacked, and he hissed at the kitten;
But as she stood at bay,He quickly ran away;Afraid of being scratched as well as bitten.
Little Robin, welcome here,Welcome to my frugal cheer;Winter chills thy mossy bed,Come then daily, and be fed.
Little Robin, fear no harm,Dread not here the least alarm;All will share with you their bread,Come then daily, and be fed.
Little Robin, let thy songNow and then thy stay prolong;We will give thee food instead,Come then daily, and be fed.
Come, let us play,Said Tommy Gay;Well, then, What atSaid Simon Pratt;At trap and ball,Said Neddy Hall;Well, so we will,Said Billy Gill.
For cakes I’ll play,Said Tommy Gay;I’m one for that,Said Simon Pratt;I’ll bring them all,Said Neddy Hall;And I’ll sit still,Said Billy Gill.
What a hot day,Said Tommy Gay;Then let us chat,Said Simon Pratt;On yonder hill,Said Billy Gill;Aye, one and all,Said Neddy Hall.
Come with me, pray,Said Tommy Gay;Trust me for that,Said Simon Pratt;They eat them all,Gay, Pratt, and Hall;And all were ill,But Billy Gill.
Dear mother, said a little Fish,Pray, is not that a fly?I’m very hungry, and I wishYou’d let me go and try.
Sweet innocent, the mother cried,And started from her nook,That horrid fly is put to hideThe sharpness of the hook!
Now, as I’ve heard, this little TroutWas young and foolish too,And so he thought he’d venture out,To see if it were true.
And round about the hook he played,With many a longing look,And, Dear me, to himself he saidI’m sure, that’s not ahook.
I can but give one little pluck:Let’s see; and so I will.So on he went, and lo, it stuckQuite through his little gill.
And as he faint and fainter grew,With hollow voice he cried,Dear mother, if I’d minded you,I need not now have died.
Julia did in the window stand;Mama then sitting by,Saw her put out her little hand,And try to catch a fly.
O do not hurt the pretty thing,Her prudent mother said;Crush not its leg or feeble wing,So beautifully made.
Hey, rub-a-dub, dub! here come the boys,For the Soldiers all make way;Young Robinet at their head is setAll dressed as warrior gay.
See how he swings his bright tin sword,To his followers behind;While from his cap a squirrel’s tailFlies streaming in the wind.
This is good fun, my merry boys,To see you I am glad;But mind you, in reality,War is a business bad.—
Here’s old Ben Bolt, a soldier brave,Who lost his legs in war;With crutch and cane, he hobbles ’roundAnd shows you many a scar.
In scenes of fearful blood and strife,Ah! many low are lain,And many a young and gallant heartIs numbered with the slain.
’Tis time that my baby should learnWhat so oft he has heard, to repeat,So shall he some sugar-plums earn;Then let us begin, my Sweet.
For baby is three years old,And has senses and memory too,A great many things he’s been told,And he can remember a few.
He can tell me, I know, a few things,Of the garden, the sky, and the weather;That a bird has two legs and two wings,But he cannot say ten lines together.
Then let us, my baby, begin,And try these few lines here to learn,It will not be a difficult thing,And then he’ll some sugar-plums earn.
Another story, Mother dear,Did young Maria say;You read so nice, so loud and clear,—Another story, pray.
I love that book, I do indeed,So take it up again;I think Iseethe things you read,You make it all so plain.
What would I give to read like you,Why nothing comes amiss!O, any thing I’ll gladly do,If you will teach me this.
Maria, then, must learn to spell,If she would read like me;She soon may learn to read as well;O, that I will, said she.
Why here’s a foolish little man!Laugh at him, Donkey, if you can:And Cat and Dog, and Cow and CalfCome, ev’ry one of you and laugh!
For, only think, he runs away,If honest Donkey does but bray;And when the Bull begins to bellowHe’s like a crazy little fellow!
Poor Brindle Cow can hardly passAlong the hedge to nip the grass,Or wag her tail to lash the flies,But off the little booby hies!
And when old Tray comes running too,With bow, wow, wow, for how d’ye do,And means it all for civil play,’Tis sure to make him run away!
But all the while you’re thinking, may beAh! well, but this must be a baby.O, cat and dog, and cow and calf,I’m not surpris’d to see you laugh,He’s five years old, and almost half!
Children who with idle habitsFrom the school-room haste away,Wishing out of doors to rambleEre they do their lessons say—
They shall have no tasks or reading,But they must to school be sent,Because they are a bad life leading,And this shall be their punishment.
But those who quickly say their lessons,By mama shall still be taught,And afterwards, nice stories telling,Shall hear the books papa has bought.
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kissYour little sister dear;I must not have such things as this,Nor noisy quarrels hear.
What! little children scold and fight,That ought to be so mild;O Mary, ’tis a shocking sightTo see an angry child.
I can’t imagine, for my part,The reason of your folly:As if she did you any hurt,By playing with your dolly!
See, how the little tears do runFast from her watery eye;Come, my sweet innocent, have done,’Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away,And make it up with kisses;And never turn a pretty playTo such a pet as this is.
Mama, my head (poor William said)So very badly aches,Tell Brother there, I cannot bearThe tiresome noise he makes.
I’m sure, said John, if I had known,Dear Brother, you were ill,I would have read, or drawn, instead,And have remain’d quite still.
Good boys, said she, O ever beThus kind to one another;I am, my dear, much pleased to hearYour answer to your Brother.
Let us buy,Said Sally Fry;Something nice,Said Betsy Price;What shall it be?Said Kitty Lee;A nice plum cake,Said Lucy Wake.
A piece for me,Said Kitty Lee;A slice I’ll take,Said Lucy Wake;Give me a slice,Said Betsy Price;All by-and-by,Said Sally Fry.
I’ll save some cake,Said Lucy Wake;And so will I,Said Sally Fry;Well, I’ll agree,Said Kitty Lee;’Twill do for twice,Said Betsy Price.
A piece with ice,Said Betsy Price;I’ll put some by,Said Sally Fry;The third for me,Said Kitty Lee;The fourth I’ll takeSaid Lucy Wake.
Miss Helen was always too giddy to heedWhat her mother had told her to shun;For frequently, over the street in full speed,She would cross where the carriages run.
And out she would go to a very deep well,To look at the water below;How naughty! to run to a dangerous well,Where her mother forbade her to go!
One morning, intending to take but one peep,Her foot slipt away from the ground;Unhappy misfortune! the water was deep,And giddy Miss Helen was drown’d.
About getting up.
Pretty Flower, tell me whyAll your leaves do open wide,Every morning, when on highThe noble sun begins to ride?
This is why, my lady fair,If you would the reason know,For betimes the pleasant airVery cheerfully doth blow.
And the birds on every treeSing a merry, merry tune;And the busy honey beeComes to suck my sugar soon.
This is all the reason whyI my little leaves undo.Little Miss, come wake and try,If I have not told you true.
John WhiteFlew his kite,On a boisterous day,A galeBroke the tail,And it soon flew away.
And whileOn a stile,He sat sighing and sad,Charley GrayCame that way,A good natured lad.
“Don’t cry;Wipe your eye,”Said he, “little Jack;Stay here;Never fear,And I’ll soon bring it back.”
To the stile,With a smile,He presently broughtThe kite,And John WhiteThanked him much, as he ought.
Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair.Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Let me taste your ware.”
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,“Show me first your penny.”Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Indeed, I have not any.”
Simple Simon went a-fishing,For to catch a whale;All the water he had got,Was in his mother’s pail.
Simple Simon went to lookIf plums grew on a thistle,He pricked his fingers very much,Which made poor Simon whistle.
Then Simple Simon went a-hunting,For to catch a hare;He rode on a goat about the street,But could not find one there.
He went for water in a sieveBut soon it all run through;And now poor Simple SimonBids you all adieu!
I had a little hobby horse,And it was dapple grey,Its head was made of pea-straw,Its tail was made of hay.I sold it to an old womanFor a copper groat;And I’ll not sing my song againWithout a new coat.
He that would thrive,Must rise at five;He that hath thriven,May lie till seven;And he that by the plough would thrive,Himself must either hold or drive.
Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,Stole a pig and away he run;The pig was eat,And Tom was beat,And Tom ran crying down the street.
A Farmer went trotting upon his grey mare,Bumpety bumpety bump,With his daughter behind him so rosy and fair,Lumpety lumpety lump.
A raven cried croak, and they all tumbled downBumpety bumpety bump;The mare broke her knees and the farmer his crown,Lumpety lumpety lump.
The mischievous raven flew laughing away,Bumpety bumpety bump,And vowed he would serve them the same next day,Lumpety lumpety lump.
Old woman, old woman, shall we go a-shearing?Speak a little louder, sir, I am very thick o’ hearing.Old woman, old woman, shall I kiss you dearly?Thank you, kind sir, I hear very clearly.
Little Tommy TittlemouseLived in a little house;He caught fishesIn other men’s ditches.
Little Miss MuffettShe sat on a tuffett,Eating of curds and whey;There came a little spiderWho sat down beside her,And frightened Miss Muffett away.
Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,Stick, stock, stone, dead,Stick him up, stick him down,Stick him in the old man’s crown.
Rain, rain,Go away,Come againApril day;Little JohnnyWants to play.
Tom he was a Pi-per’s son,He learned to play when he was young;But all the tunes that he could play,Was “O-ver the hills and far away.”
Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise,That he pleas-ed both the girls and boys,And they all stop-ped to hear him play,“O-ver the hills and far a-way.”
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,That those who heard him could ne-ver stand still;When-e-ver they heard him they be-gan to dance,Even pigs on their hind-legs would after him prance.
He met old Dame Trott with a basket of eggs,He u-sed his pipe and she u-sed her legs;She danc-ed a-bout till the eggs were all broke,She be-gan to fret, but he laugh-ed at the joke.
He saw a cross fel-low was beat-ing an ass,Hea-vy la-den with pots, pans, dish-es, and glass;He took out his pipe and play-ed them a tune,And the Jack-ass’s load was light-en-ed full soon.
I had a little dog, they called him Buff,I sent him to the shop for a three cents worth of snuff:But he lost the bag, and spilt the snuff,So take that cuff, and that’s enough.
Molly, my sister, and I fell out,And what do you think it was about?She loved coffee, and I loved tea,And that was the reason we couldn’t agree.
Solomon Grundy,Born on a Monday,Christened on Tuesday,Married on Wednesday,Very ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,Died on Saturday,Buried on Sunday,This is the endOf Solomon Grundy.
Handy Spandy, Jack a-dandy,Loves plum-cake and sugar-candy;He bought some at a grocer’s shop,And out he came, hop-hop-hop.
Go to bed Tom, go to bed Tom—Merry or sober, go to bed Tom.
Mary had a pretty bird,Feathers bright and yellow,Slender legs, upon my wordHe was a pretty fellow.The sweetest notes he always sung,Which much delighted Mary,And often where the cage was hung,She stood to hear Canary.
Lit-tle boy blue, come blow your horn;The sheep’s in the mea-dow, the cow’s in the corn.Where’s the lit-tle boy that looks af-ter the sheep?He’s un-der the hay-cock fast a-sleep.
I had a lit-tle po-ny;They call-ed him dap-ple grey.I lent him to a lady,To ride a mile a-way.She whip-ped him, she slash-ed him,She rode him through the mire;I would not lend my po-ny now,For all the lady’s hire.
Pe-ter WhiteWill ne’er go right,Would you know the rea-son why?He fol-lows his nose,Wher-ever he goes,And that stands all aw-ry.
See, see. What shall I see?A horse’s head where his tail should be.
I had a little hen, the prettiest ever seen,She washed me the dishes, and kept the house clean:She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,She brought it home in less than an hour,She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,She sat by the fire, and told many a fine tale.
Ride a cock horseTo Ban-bu-ry Cross,To see lit-tle Jen-nyUp-on a white horse.Rings on her fin-gers,Bells on her toes,She shall have mu-sicWher-ever she goes.
Pus-sy cat ate the dump-lings, the dump-lings;Pus-sy cat ate the dump-lings.Mam-ma stood by, and cried, “Oh, fie!Why did you eat the dump-lings?”
I have a lit-tle sister; they call her Peep, Peep.She wades the wa-ter, deep, deep, deep;She climbs the moun-tains, high, high, high.Poor lit-tle thing! she has but one eye.
1. This lit-tle pig went to mar-ket.
2. This lit-tle pig stay-ed at home.
3. This lit-tle pig got roast beef.
4. This lit-tle pig got none.
5. This lit-tle pig cried wee, wee,all the way home.
One misty, moisty morning,When cloudy was the weather,I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.He began to compliment, and I began to grin,How do you do, and how do you do?And how do you do again?
Father Short came down the lane,Oh! I’m obliged to hammer and smiteFrom four in the morning till eight at night,For a bad master and a worse dame.
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 to these three sons,Jeffery, Jemmy and John.
Hink, minx! the old witch winks,The fat begins to fry:There’s nobody at home but jumping Joan,Father, mother, and I.
What, climb on the back of a chair!O Henry, how can you do so?Sometime, if you do not take care,You will get a most terrible throw.
Suppose grand-mama had got up,Pray what had become of you then?Indeed, my dear Henry, I hopeYou never will do so again.
Your poor little teeth may be broke,Or your face get some terrible bruise,Indeed, and indeed, ’tis no joke,And you must not do just as you choose.
For suppose there’s no danger at all,’Tis your duty to mind what I say;So I’ll punish you, Henry, next time,Youdaremy commands disobey.
“The Squirrel is happy, the Squirrel is gay,”Little Mary once said to her brother;“He has nothing to do, or think of but play,And to jump from one bough to another.”
The Squirrel, dear Mary, is merry and wise,For true wisdom and joy go together;He lays up in Summer his Winter supplies,And then he don’t mind the cold weather.
Lazy Sheep, pray tell me whyIn the pleasant fields you lie,Eating grass and daisies white,From the morning till the night?Every thing can something do,But what kind of use are you?
Nay, my little master, nay,Do not serve me so, I pray;Don’t you see the wool that growsOn my back, to make your clothes?Cold, and very cold you’d get,If I did not give you it.
True, it seems a pleasant thingTo nip the daisies in the spring,But many chilly nights I passOn the cold and dewy grass,Or pick a scanty dinner whereAll the common’s brown and bare.
Then the farmer comes at last,When the merry spring is past,And cuts my woolly coat away,To warm you in the winter’s day;Little master, this is whyIn the pleasant fields I lie.
Dear Alfred, I’ve a gift for you,A present from your Aunt;A prayer-book. Can you read it through?Said Alfred—No, I can’t.
But if I teach you, will you tryTo learn, and sit quite still?And with your utmost power apply?Said Alfred—Yes, I will.
Oh dear! what a beautiful DollMy sister has bought at the fair!She says I must call it “Miss Poll,”And make it a bonnet to wear.
O pretty new Doll! it looks fine;Its cheeks are all cover’d with red;But, pray, will it always be mine?And, pray, may I take it to bed?
How kind was my sister to buyThis Dolly, with hair that will curl!Perhaps, if you want to know why,She’ll tell you I’ve been a good girl.
When Philip’s good mama was ill,The servant begg’d he would be still.Because the doctor and the nurseHad said that noise would make her worse.
At night, when Philip went to bed,He kiss’d mama, and whisp’ring said,“My dear mama, I never willMake any noise when you are ill.”