NURSERY RHYMES

Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a Queen; Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring; And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.

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

Hush thee, my babby, Lie still with thy daddy, Thy mammy has gone to the mill, To grind thee some wheat To make thee some meat, And so, my dear babby, lie still.

Sleep, baby, sleep! Thy father watches the sheep; Thy mother is shaking the dream-land tree, And down falls a little dream on thee: Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep. The large stars are the sheep, The wee stars are the lambs, I guess, The fair moon is the shepherdess: Sleep, baby, sleep!

This little pig went to market; This little pig stayed at home; This little pig had roast beef; This little pig had none; This little pig said, "Wee, wee! I can't find my way home."

Brow bender, Eye peeper, Nose smeller, Mouth eater, Chin chopper. Knock at the door—peep in Lift up the latch—walk in

Eye winker, Tom Tinker, Nose smeller, Mouth eater, Chin chopper. Chin chopper.

Here sits the Lord Mayor, Here sit his two men, Here sits the cock, And here sits the hen; Here sit the chickens, And here they go in, Chippety, chippety, chippety chin.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! So I do, master, as fast as I can: Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.

Pat it, kiss it, Stroke it, bless it; Three days' sunshine, three days' rain, Little hand all well again.

Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry, have I, Three bags full:

One for my master, One for my dame, And one for the little boy Who lives in the lane.

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, Where have you been? I've been to London To look at the Queen [page 4]

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, What did you there? I frightened a little mouse Under her chair.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, To see an old lady upon a white horse, Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.

Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea, Silver buckles on his knee; He'll come back and marry me, Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Bobby Shaftoe's fat and fair, Combing down his yellow hair; He's my love for evermair, Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Tom, he was a piper's son, He learned to play when he was young, And all the tune that he could play Was, "Over the hills and far away," Over the hills, and a great way off, The wind will blow my top-knot off.

Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise That he well pleased both the girls and boys, And they always stopped to hear him play "Over the hills and far away."

Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, Thy house is on fire, thy children all gone: All but one whose name is Ann, And she crept under the pudding-pan.

The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will the robin do then, Poor thing?

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

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 rode him through the mire; I would not lend my pony now For all the lady's hire.

I had a little doggy that used to sit and beg; But Doggy tumbled down the stairs and broke his little leg. Oh! Doggy, I will nurse you, and try to make you well, And you shall have a collar with a little silver bell.

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; But all the water he could find Was in his mother's pail!

Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down, and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after.

Up Jack got and home did trot As fast as he could caper; Went to bed to mend his head With vinegar and brown paper.

Jill came in and she did grin, To see his paper plaster, Mother, vexed, did whip her next, For causing Jack's disaster.

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn, Where's the boy that looks after the sheep? He's under the haycock, fast asleep.

Old Mother Goose, when She wanted to wander, Would ride through the air On a very fine gander.

Mother Goose had a house, 'T was built in a wood, Where an owl at the door For sentinel stood.

She had a son Jack, A plain-looking lad; He was not very good, Nor yet very bad.

She sent him to market, A live goose he bought: "Here! mother," says he, "It will not go for nought."

Jack's goose and her gander Grew very fond; They'd both eat together, Or swim in one pond.

Jack found one morning, As I have been told, His goose had laid him An egg of pure gold.

Jack rode to his mother, The news for to tell. She called him a good boy, And said it was well.

Goosey, goosey, gander, Where shall I wander? Upstairs, downstairs, And in my lady's chamber. There I met an old man Who would not say his prayers; I took him by the left leg, And threw him downstairs.

I'll tell you a story About Mary Morey, And now my story's begun, I'll tell you another About her brother, And now my story's done.

Three wise men of Gotham, Went to sea in a bowl; If the bowl had been stronger, My song had been longer.

There was a crooked man, And he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence Upon a crooked stile: He bought a crooked cat, That caught a crooked mouse— And they all lived together In a little crooked house.

There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise, He jumped into a bramble bush, And scratched out both his eyes; [page 9] But when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main, He jumped into another bush, And scratched 'em in again.

Hey! diddle diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such sport, While the dish ran away with the spoon.

Hickory, dickory, dock, The mouse ran up the clock; The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory, dickory, dock.

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 put them to bed.

Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet, Eating her curds and whey; There came a great spider, And sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.

If all the seas were one sea, What a great sea that would be! And if all the trees were one tree, What a great tree that would be! And if all the axes were one axe, What a great axe that would be! And if all the men were one man, What a great man he would be! And if the great man took the great axe, And cut down the great tree, And let it fall into the great sea, What a splish splash that would be!

There was an old man, And he had a calf, And that's half;

He took him out of the stall, And tied him to the wall, And that's all.

The man in the wilderness asked me, How many strawberries grew in the sea? I answered him as I thought good, As many as red herrings grew in the wood

If all the world were apple-pie, And all the sea were ink, And all the trees were bread and cheese, What should we have for drink?

I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And it was full of pretty things For baby and for me. [page 11]

There were sweetmeats in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold.

The four-and-twenty sailors That stood between the decks, Were four-and-twenty white mice. With chains about their necks.

The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain cried, "Quack, quack!"

My dear, do you know, How a long time ago, Two poor little children, Whose names I don't know, Were stolen away on a fine summer's day, And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.

And when it was night, So sad was their plight! The sun it went down, And the moon gave no light! They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried And the poor little things, they lay down and died.

And when they were dead, The robins so red, Brought strawberry-leaves And over them spread; And all the day long, They sung them this song: "Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood! Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?"

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts All on a summer's day; The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.

The King of Hearts called for the tarts, And beat the Knave full sore; The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.

I had a little husband, No bigger than my thumb; I put him in a pint-pot, And there I bade him drum.

I bought a little horse, That galloped up and down; I bridled him, and saddled And sent him out of town.

I gave him little garters, To garter up his hose, And a little handkerchief, To wipe his little nose.

Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie;

When the pie was opened The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish To set before the King?

[page 13]

The King was in his counting-house, Counting out his money; The Queen was in the parlor, Eating bread and honey;

The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes; When up came a blackbird, And nipped off her nose.

Little Bo-peep, she lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them.

Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep, And dreamed she heard them bleating; When she awoke she found it a joke, For they still were 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 stray, Unto a meadow hard by— There she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry.

She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye, And over the hillocks she raced; And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should, That each tail should be properly placed.

What are little boys made of, made of? What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails; And that's what little boys are made of, made of.

What are little girls made of, made of? What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice, and all that's nice; And that's what little girls are made of, made of.

A farmer went trotting Upon his gray mare; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! With his daughter behind him, So rosy and fair; Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

A raven cried "Croak"; And they all tumbled down; Bumpety, 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 the next day; Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

This is the way the ladies ride— Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!

This is the way the gentlemen ride— Sitting astride, sitting astride!

[page 15] This is the way the grandmothers ride— Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!

This is the way the babykins ride— Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!

What does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? "Let me fly," says little birdie, "Mother, let me fly away."

Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away.

What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise and fly away."

Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby, too, shall fly away.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Little baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle-bed;

[page 16] Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight; Little baby dear, good night.

Yes, my darling, well I know How the bitter wind doth blow; And the winter's snow and rain Patter on the window-pane: But they cannot come in here, To my little baby dear;

For the window shutteth fast, Till the stormy night is past; And the curtains warm are spread Round about her cradle-bed: So till morning shineth bright, Little baby dear, good night.

Jane Taylor

Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; [page 17] Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Which is the way to Baby-Land? Any one can tell; Up one flight, To your right; Please to ring the bell.

What can you see in Baby-Land? Little folks in white, Downy heads, Cradle-beds, Faces pure and bright.

What do they do in Baby-Land? Dream and wake and play, Laugh and crow, Shout and grow, Jolly times have they.

What do they say in Baby-Land? Why, the oddest things; Might as well Try to tell What a birdie sings.

Who is the Queen of Baby-Land? Mother kind and sweet; And her love, Born above, Guides the little feet.

George Cooper

Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard, To get her poor dog a bone. When she got there, the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker's to buy him some bread, But when she came back the poor dog was dead.

She went to the undertaker's to buy him a coffin, And when she came back the dog was laughing.

She went to the draper's to buy him some linen, And when she came back the good dog was spinning.

She went to the hosier's to buy him some hose, And when she came back he was dressed in his clothes.

The dame made a curtsy, the dog made a bow, The dame said "your servant," the dog said "Bow-wow."

She went to the hatter's to buy him a hat, And when she came back he was feeding the cat.

[page 19] She went to the tailor's to buy him a coat, And when she came back he was riding the goat.

She went to the barber's to buy him a wig, And when she came back he was dancing a jig.

She went to the butcher's to get him some tripe, And when she came back he was smoking a pipe.

She went to the fish-shop to buy him some fish, And when she came back he was washing the dish.

She went to the tavern for white wine and red, And when she came back the dog stood on his head.

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 going to St. Ives?

Brown eyes, straight nose; Dirt pies, rumpled clothes. [page 20]

Torn books, spoilt toys: Arch looks, unlike a boy's;

Little rages, obvious arts; (Three her age is), cakes, tarts;

Falling down off chairs; Breaking crown down stairs;

Catching flies on the pane; Deep sighs—cause not plain;

Bribing you with kisses For a few farthing blisses.

Wide-a-wake; as you hear, "Mercy's sake, quiet, dear!"

New shoes, new frock; Vague views of what's o'clock

When it's time to go to bed, And scorn sublime for what is said

Folded hands, saying prayers, Understands not nor cares—

Thinks it odd, smiles away; Yet may God hear her pray!

Bed gown white, kiss Dolly; Good night!—that's Polly,

Fast asleep, as you see, Heaven keep my girl for me!

William Brighty Rands

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.

See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky! When they sought Him, there they found Him, With his Virgin-Mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled! When He wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hushed the holy child.

Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the honest oxen fed; —Peace, my darling! here's no danger! Here's no ox a-near thy bed! [page 22]

Mayst thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise!

I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire.

Isaac Watts

I like little Pussy, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But Pussy and I Very gently will play; She shall sit by my side, And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good.

I'll pat little Pussy, And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears, Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw; [page 23] I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For Pussy can't bear To be worried or teased.

Jane Taylor

Baby mustn't frown, When she tumbles down; If the wind should change—Ah me, What a face her face would be!

Rub away the dirt, Say she wasn't hurt; What a world 'twould be—O my, If all who fell began to cry!

Laurence Alma Tadema

Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, Up went pussy-cat, and down went he; Down came pussy-cat, and away Robin ran; Said little Robin Redbreast, "Catch me if you can."

Little Robin Redbreast 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 naught but "Mew," and Robin flew away.

Sleep, sleep, my treasure, The long day's pleasure Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep; The garden still is Alight with lilies, But all the daisies are fast asleep. [page 24]

Sleep, sleep, my darling, Dawn wakes the starling, The sparrow stirs when he sees day break; But all the meadow Is wrapped in shadow, And you must sleep till the daisies wake!

E. Nesbit

Oh, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens from the tower which we see, They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.

Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.

Oh, hush thee, my babie, the time will soon come, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.

Sir Walter Scott

I had a little bird, I took it from the nest; I prest it and blest it, And nurst it in my breast. [page 25]

I set it on the ground, Danced round and round, And sang about it so cheerly, With "Hey, my little bird, And ho! my little bird, And oh! but I love thee dearly!"

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

Who killed Cock Robin? "I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock 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." [page 26]

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 There are shining in the skies? [page 27] Do you know how many clouds Ev'ry day go floating by? God 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? God in heaven each name can tell, Loves you, too, and loves you well.

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

Cock 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.

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. [page 29]

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 cock 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. [page 30]

This is the farmer sowing his corn, That kept the cock 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.

On yonder hill there stands a tree; Tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the tree there was a branch; Branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the branch there was a nest; Nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And in the nest there was an egg; Egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And in the egg there was a bird; Bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

[page 31] And on the bird there was a feather; Feather on the bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

Do you know what's in my pottet? Such a lot of treasures in it! Listen now while I bedin it: Such a lot of sings it holds, And everysin dats in my pottet, And when, and where, and how I dot it. First of all, here's in my pottet A beauty shell, I pit'd it up: And here's the handle of a tup That somebody has broked at tea; The shell's a hole in it, you see: Nobody knows dat I dot it, I teep it safe here in my pottet. And here's my ball too in my pottet, And here's my pennies, one, two, free, That Aunty Mary dave to me, To-morrow day I'll buy a spade, When I'm out walking with the maid; I tant put that in here my pottet! But I can use it when I've dot it. Here's some more sings in my pottet, Here's my lead, and here's my string; And once I had an iron ring, But through a hole it lost one day, And this is what I always say— A hole's the worst sing in a pottet, Be sure and mend it when you've dot it.

Unknown