The Project Gutenberg eBook ofTraditional Nursery Songs of England, With Pictures by Eminent Modern Artists

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofTraditional Nursery Songs of England, With Pictures by Eminent Modern ArtistsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Traditional Nursery Songs of England, With Pictures by Eminent Modern ArtistsEditor: Henry ColeRelease date: November 7, 2009 [eBook #30418]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRADITIONAL NURSERY SONGS OF ENGLAND, WITH PICTURES BY EMINENT MODERN ARTISTS ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Traditional Nursery Songs of England, With Pictures by Eminent Modern ArtistsEditor: Henry ColeRelease date: November 7, 2009 [eBook #30418]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)

Title: Traditional Nursery Songs of England, With Pictures by Eminent Modern Artists

Editor: Henry Cole

Release date: November 7, 2009 [eBook #30418]Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRADITIONAL NURSERY SONGS OF ENGLAND, WITH PICTURES BY EMINENT MODERN ARTISTS ***

THE KING WAS IN THE PARLOR,THE KING WAS IN THE PARLOR, COUNTING OUT HIS MONEY;THE QUEEN WAS IN THE KITCHEN, EATING BREAD & HONEY.THE MAID WAS IN THE GARDEN, HANGING OUT THE CLOTHES;THERE CAME A LITTLE BLACKBIRD & PECKED OFF HER NOSE.

THE KING WAS IN THE PARLOR, COUNTING OUT HIS MONEY;THE QUEEN WAS IN THE KITCHEN, EATING BREAD & HONEY.THE MAID WAS IN THE GARDEN, HANGING OUT THE CLOTHES;THERE CAME A LITTLE BLACKBIRD & PECKED OFF HER NOSE.

EDITED BY

FELIX SUMMERLY.

LONDON: JOSEPH CUNDALL, 12, OLD BOND STREET.1843

The Copyright of these Works is registered pursuant to Statute 5 and 6Vic. c. 45.

So my dear Madam, you think Nursery Songs mere trash, not worth utterance or remembrance, and beneath the dignity of the "march of mind" of our days! I would bow to your judgment, but you always talk so loud in the midst of a song; look grave at a joke—and the leaves of that copy of Wordsworth's Poems, presented to you on your birthday—I will not say how many years ago, still remain uncut. Facts like these, and others constantly occurring, prove that your ear cannot relish melody; and that poetry does not touch your feelings. Besides, you are still unmarried, and you say, I record it with regret, "you hate children." Doubtless you were never born a child yourself.

It is to mothers, sisters, kind-hearted aunts, and even fathers, who are summoned to become unwilling vocalists at break of day by young gentlemen and ladies of two years old; and to all having the charge ofchildren, who are alive to the importance of cultivating their natural keenness for rhyme, rhythm, melody, and instinctive love for fun, that I offer this first part of a collection of Traditional Nursery Songs. This Collection has been in progress for more than ten years, and it is now published, after a revision, with all the editions by Ritson, and others, that I have been able to meet with.

The Pictures, though made especially for the benefit of my young audience, will not, I feel pretty sure, be uninteresting to more advanced connoisseurs. I am not at liberty to mention the names of the artists who in their kind sympathies for children have obliged me with them. It is a mystery to be unravelled by the little people themselves, who, as they advance in a knowledge and love of beauty, will not fail to recognize in the works of some of the best of our painters of familiarlife, the pencils of those who gave them early lessons in genuine art.

A diller, a dollar,A ten o'clock scholar,What makes you come so soon?You used to come at ten o'clock,And now you come at noon.

A long tailed pig, or a short tailed pig,Or a pig without a tail,A sow pig, or a boar pig,Or a pig with a curly tail.

As I was going up Pippen hill,Pippen hill was dirty;There I met a pretty Miss,And she dropt me a curtsey.

Little Miss, pretty Miss,Blessings light upon you,If I had half a crown a day,I'd spend it all upon you.

Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?Yes, marry, have I, three bags full;One for my master, and one for my dame,And one for the little boy that lives in the lane.

Bless you, bless you, bonnie bee:Say, when will your wedding be?If it be to-morrow day,Take your wings and fly away.

Bonnie lass! bonnie lass! wilt thou be mine?Thou shalt neither wash dishes nor serve the swine,But sit on a cushion and sow up a seam,And thou shalt have strawberries, sugar, and cream.

BYE. O MY BABYBYE. O MY BABY

BYE. O MY BABY

Bye baby bunting,Father's gone a hunting,To get a little rabbit-skin,To lap his little baby in.

Bye, O my baby,When I was a lady,Oh then my poor babe didn't cry;But my baby is weeping,For want of good keeping,Oh! I fear my poor baby will die.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!My dame has lost her shoe,Master's broke his fiddle-stick,And don't know what to do.

Cold and raw the north wind doth blow,Bleak in the morning early;All the hills are covered with snow,And winter's now come fairly.

"Come, let's to bed," says Sleepy-head,"Let's stay awhile," says Slow,"Put on the pot," says Greedy-gut,"We'll sup before we go."

Cross Patch, draw the latch,Sit by the fire and spin;Take a cup, and drink it up,And call your neighbours in.

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 will let down thy milk to me.

Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town,In a yellow petticoat, and a green gown.

"COME, LET'S GO TO BED," SAYS SLEEPY-HEAD,"LET'S STAY AWHILE," SAYS SLOW,"PUT ON THE POT," SAYS GREEDY-GUT,"WE'LL SUP BEFORE WE GO."

Danty baby diddy,What can mammy do wid'e?Sit in a lapAnd give ye some pap,Danty baby diddy.

Did you not hear of Betty Pringle's pig!It was not very little nor yet very big;The pig sat down upon a dunghill,And there poor piggy he made his will.Betty Pringle came to see this pretty pig,That was not very little nor yet very big;This little piggy it lay down and died,And Betty Pringle sat down and cried.Then Johnny Pringle buried this very pretty pig,That was not very little nor yet very big,So here's an end of the song of all three,Johnny Pringle, Betty Pringle, and little Piggy.

Ding, dong, bell,Pussy-cat's in the well.Who put her in?Little Johnny Green.Who pull'd her out?Little Johnny Stout.What a naughty boy was that,To drown his poor grand-mammy's cat;Which never did him any harm,But killed the mice in his father's barn.

Dingty, diddledy, my mammy's maid,She stole oranges, I am afraid,Some in her pocket, some in her sleeve,She stole oranges, I do believe.

Four and twenty tailorsWent to kill a snail,The best man among themDurst not touch her tail.

She put out her hornsLike a little Kyloe cow:Run, tailors, run,Or she'll kill you all e'en now.

Girls and boys, come out to play,The moon is shining bright as day;Leave your supper and leave your sleep,And come with your play-fellows into the street;Come with a whoop, and come with a call,Come with a good will, or come not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A half-penny roll will serve us all:You find milk and I'll find flour,And we'll have a pudding in half-an-hour.

Great A, littlea, bouncing B,The cat's in the cupboard, and she can't see.

Handy-spandy, Jack-a-DandyLoves plum-cake and sugar-candy,He bought some at a grocer's shop,And pleas'd, away went, hop, hop, hop!

Hark! hark! the dogs do bark,Beggars are coming to town,Some in jags, and some in rags,And some in velvet gown.

Here we go up, up, up,And here we go down, down, downy,And here we go backwards and forwards,And here we go round, round, roundy.

Here stands a fist,Who set it there?A better man than you,Touch him if you dare.

Hey diddle diddle,The cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon;The little dog laughedTo see such craft,And the dish ran away with the spoon.

HARK, HARK, THE DOGS DO BARK!BEGGARS ARE COMING TO TOWN.

Hey my kitten, my kitten,And hey my kitten, my deary,Such a sweet pet as thisWas neither far nor neary.

Hiccory, diccory, dock,The mouse ran up the clock;The clock struck one,The mouse ran down,Hiccory, diccory, dock.

How many days has my baby to play?Saturday, Sunday, Monday,Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,Threescore men, and threescore more,Cannot place Humpty Dumpty as he was before.

How many miles is it to Babylon?Threescore miles and ten.Can I get there by candle-light?Yes, and back again.

Hush-a-bye, baby,Daddy is near,Mammy's a lady,And that's very clear.

"Hush-a-bye, babby, lie still with thy daddy,Thy mammy is gone to the mill,To get some wheat, to make some meat,So pray, my dear babby, lie still.

"Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree top,When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,Down will come baby, bough, cradle and all.

I had a little husband, no bigger than my thumb,I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum,I bought him a little handkerchief to wipe his little nose,And a pair of little garters to tie his little hose.

I had a little pony,His name was Dapple Gray,I lent him to a lady,To ride a mile away.She whipped him, she lashed him,She drove him through the mire;I would not lend my pony now,For all the lady's hire.

I had a little wife, the prettiest ever seen,She washed all the dishes and kept the house clean;She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,She brought it home safe in less than an hour,She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,She sat by the fire and told a fine tale.

I'll sing you a song,It's not very long:The woodcock and the sparrow,The little dog has burnt his tail,And he shall he hanged to-morrow.

I'll tell you a story,About Jack a Nory,And now my story's begun;I'll tell you another,About Jack and his brother;And now my story's done.

Is John Smith within?Yes that he is.Can he set a shoe?Ay, marry, two.Here a nail, there a nail,Tick, tack, too.

I see the moon, and the moon sees me,God bless the moon, and God bless me.

Jack and JillWent up the hillTo fetch a pail of water;Jack fell down,And cracked his crown,And Jill came tumbling after.

Jacky, come give me thy fiddle,If ever thou mean to thrive.Nay; I'll not give my fiddleTo any man alive.If I should give my fiddle,They'll think that I'm gone mad;For many a joyful dayMy fiddle and I have had.

Jack Sprat would eat no fat,His wife would eat no lean,Now was not this a pretty trickTo make the platter clean?

Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird,Fly away home,Your house is on fire,Your children will burn.

1. Let us go to the wood, says this pig;2. What to do there? says that pig;3. To look for my mother, says this pig;4. What to do with her? says that pig;5. To kiss her to death, says this pig.Note.This is said to each finger.

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,And cannot tell where to find 'em;Let them alone, and they'll come home,And bring their tails behind 'em.Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,And dreamt she heard them bleating,When she awoke she found it a joke,For they were still all fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,Determined for to find them,She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,For they'd left their tails behind them.

It happened one day as Bo-peep did strayUnto a meadow hard by;There she espied their tails side by side,All hung on a tree to dry.

Little boy blue, come blow me your horn,The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.Where is the little boy tending the sheep?Under the haycock fast asleep!

Little Jack HornerSat in a cornerEating a Christmas pie;He put in his thumb,And pull'd out a plum,And said "What a good boy am I!"

Little Jack Jingle,He used to live single:But when he got tired of this kind of life,He left off being single and lived with his wife.

Little Jenny Wren fell sick upon a time,When in came Robin Redbreast and brought her sops and wine,"Eat, Jenny, drink, Jenny, all shall be thine!""Thank you, Robin, kindly, you shall be mine."Then Jenny Wren got better, and stood upon her feet,And said to Robin Redbreast, "I love thee not a bit."Then Robin he was angry, and flew upon a pole,"Hoot upon thee! fie upon thee! ungrateful soul."

Little Miss MuffetShe sat on a tuffet,Eating of curds and whey;There came a little spider,Who sat down beside her,And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Little Nan EtticoatIn a white petticoatAnd a red nose,The longer she stands,The shorter she grows.

Little Robin Red-breast sat upon a tree,Up went Pussy-cat, and down went he;Down came Pussy-cat, and away Robin ran:Says little Robin Red-breast, "Catch me if you can."Little Robin Red-breast jumped upon a wall,Pussy-cat jumped after him, and almost got a fall.Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did Pussy say?Pussy-cat said "Mew," and Robin hopp'd away.

Little Robin Red-breastSat upon a rail,Niddle noddle went his head,Wiggle waggle went his tail.

Little Tom Tucker,Sings for his supper:What shall he eat?White bread and butter.How shall he cut it,Without e'er a knife?How will he be marriedWithout e'er a wife?

Mary, Mary,Quite contrary,How does your garden grow!Silver bells,And cockle-shells,And pretty maids all of a row.

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,Guard the bed that I lay on!Four corners to my bed,Four angels round my head!One to watch, one to pray,And two to bear my soul away!

AND WHEN SHE CAME BACKHE WAS READING THE NEWS.

Old mother HubbardWent to the cupboard,To give her poor dog a bone,But when she came there,The cupboard was bare,And so the poor dog had none.She went to the baker'sTo buy him some bread,And when she came backThe poor dog was dead.She went to the joiner'sTo buy him a coffin,And when she came backThe poor dog was laughing.She took a clean dishTo get him some tripe,And when she came backHe was smoking his pipe.She went to the alehouseTo get him some beer,And when she came backThe dog sat in a chair.She went to the tavernFor white wine and red,And when she came backThe dog stood on his head.She went to the hatter'sTo buy him a hat,And when she came backHe was feeding the cat.She went to the barber'sTo buy him a wig,And when she came backHe was dancing a jig.She went to the fruiterer'sTo buy him some fruit,And when she came backHe was playing the flute.She went to the tailor'sTo buy him a coat,And when she came backHe was riding a goat.She went to the cobbler'sTo buy him some shoes,And when she came backHe was reading the news.She went to the sempstressTo buy him some linen,And when she came backThe dog was spinning.She went to the hosier'sTo buy some hose,And when she came backHe was dressed in his clothes.The dame made a curtsey,The dog made a bow,The dame said, "Your servant,"The dog said, "Bow, wow."

One, two, buckle my shoe;Three, four, shut the door;Five, six, pick up sticks;Seven, eight, lay them straight;Nine, ten, a good fat hen;Eleven, twelve, who will delve?Thirteen, fourteen, maids a courting;Fifteen, sixteen, maids in the kitchen;Seventeen, eighteen, maids a waiting;Nineteen, twenty, I'm very empty;Please, Mamma, give me some dinner.

One, two, three, four, five,1, 2, 3, 4, 5,I caught a hare alive,Six, seven, eight, nine, ten;6, 7, 8, 9, 10,And let it go again.

One misty moisty morning,When cloudy was the weather,There I met an old manClothed all in leather;Clothed all in leather,With cap under his chin,How do you do, and how do you do,And how do you do again?

LOST GAME.ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE,I CAUGHT A HARE ALIVE,SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, TEN;AND LET IT GO AGAIN.

LOST GAME.

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE,I CAUGHT A HARE ALIVE,SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, TEN;AND LET IT GO AGAIN.

Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man,So I will, master, as fast as I can;Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with B.And toss it in the oven for Baby and me.

Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?I've been to London to see the Queen.Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?I frightened a little mouse under the chair.

Rain, rain,Go away,Come againAnother day;Little JohnnyWants to play.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-Cross,To see an old woman ride on a black horse,With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,And she shall have music wherever she goes.

Robert Barnes, fellow fine,Can you shoe this horse of mine?Yes, good Sir, that I can,As well as any other man;There's a nail, and there's a prod,And now, good Sir, your horse is shod.

Robin and Richard were two pretty men;They lay a-bed till the clock struck ten;Then up starts Robin and looks at the sky,"Oh! oh! brother Richard, the sun's very high,You go before with bottle and bag,And I'll follow after on little Jack Nag."

Rock-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,Down will come cradle and baby and all.

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