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.

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.