These ten little live playthings can be held in every baby’s hand, five in one and five in the other and be the baby ever so poor yet he always has these ten playthings because, you know, he brings them with him.
But all babies do not know how to play with them. They find out for themselves a good many ways of playing with them but here are some of the ways that a baby I used to know got amusement out of his.
The very first was the play called “Ta-ra-chese” (Ta-rar-cheese). It is a Dutch word and there was a little song about it all in Dutch. This is the way the baby I knew would play it when he was a tiny little fellow.
His Mamma would hold her hand up and move it gently around this way (Fig. 1) singing “Ta-ra-chese, ta-ra-chese!” Baby would look and watch awhile, and presently his little hand would begin to move and five little playthings would begin the play—dear, sweet little chubby pink fingers—for I think you have guessed these are every baby’s playthings.
How glad Mamma is to find that her baby has learned his first lesson!
Then he must learn, “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake Baker’s man,” (Fig. 2) and “How big is baby?” “So Big!”
And here are some other ways by which a little sister’s fingers may amuse the baby.
“This the church and this is the steeple, Open the gates—there are all the good people.” (Fig. 3)
“Chimney sweep—Oho! oho! Chimney sweep!” (Fig. 4)
“Put your finger in the bird’s nest. The bird isn’t home.” (Fig. 5)
And then when the little finger is poked in, a sly pinch is given by a hidden thumb and baby is told, “The birdie has just come home!” But you mustn’t pinch hard, of course, just enough to make baby laugh at being caught.
And then there is the play of “Two men sawing wood—one little boy picking up chips.” (Fig. 6) The two finger men are moved up and down and the little boy finger works busily.
Everybody knows the rhyming finger-play:
“Here’s my Father’s knives and forks, (Fig. 7)
“Here’s my Mother’s table, (Fig. 8)
“Here’s my Sister’s looking-glass, (Fig. 9)
“And here’s the baby’s cradle.” (Fig. 10)
Another play is a little act in which three persons are supposed to take part, and it has come down from the old times of long ago.
The middle finger is the Friar. Those on each side of him touch each other and make the door, the little finger is the Lady and the thumb is the Page. (Fig. 11)
The Friar knocks at the door.
Friar. “Knock, Knock, Knock!”
Page. “Somebody knocks at the door! Somebody knocks at the door!”
Lady. “Who is it? Who is it?”
Page. (Going to door) “Who is it? Who is it?”
Friar. “A Friar, a Friar.”
Page. “A Friar, Ma’am, a Friar, Ma’am.”
Lady. “What does he want? What does he want?”
Page. “What do you want, Sir? What do you want, Sir?”
Friar. “I want to come in. I want to come in.”
Page. “He wants to come in, Ma’am. He wants to come in.”
Lady. “Let him walk in. Let him walk in.”
Page. “Will you walk in, Sir? Will you walk in?”
So in he pops and takes a seat.
When each player is supposed to speak he or she must move gently, bending forward and back and when the Friar is invited to enter, the door must open only just far enough to let him “pop in.”
These are only some of the plays with which the baby I knew used to be amused; but they will suggest others to parents and older brothers and sisters. The baby cannot make all of these things himself but he will be quite as much interested when they are made by older hands.
This is the thumb, you see;
This finger shakes the tree;
And then this finger comes up;
And this one eats the plums up;
This little one, says he,
“I’ll tell of you, you’ll see!”
That one is the thumb;
And this one wants a plum;
This one says, “Where do they grow?”
This one says, “Come with me—I know.”
But this little one, he says,
“I will not go near the place!
I don’t like such naughty ways.”
Now, I think that through and through
Little Finger’s right—don’t you?
This one fell in the water,
And this one helped him ashore,
And this one put him into bed,
And this one covered him o’er;
And then, in walks this noisy little chap,
And wakes him up once more.
This one walked out into the wood,
And caught a little hare;
And this one took and carried it home,
For he thought it dainty fare;
And this one came and cooked it up
With sauces rich and rare;
And this one laid the table out,
And did the plates prepare;
And this little fellow the keeper told
What the others were doing there.
Thicken man, build the barn,
Thinner man, spool the yarn,
Longen man, stir the brew,
Gowden man, make a shoe,
Littlen man, all for you!
Dear little bare feet,
Dimpled and white,
In your long nightgown
Wrapped for the night.
Come, let me count all
Your queer little toes,
Pink as the heart
Of a shell or a rose.
One is a lady
That sits in the sun;
Two is a baby,
And three is a nun.
Four is a lily
With innocent breast;
And five is a birdie
Asleep on her nest.
“BABY’S TOES”
BY EDITH A. BENTLEY
Five little piggie wiggies
Standing in a row,
We always have to toddle
Where the baby wants to go;
Up-stairs and down-stairs,
Indoors and out,
We’re always close together
And we never fall out.
Chorus:
Father-Pig and Mother-Pig,
And Big-Brother Pig,
And Sister-Pig, and darling little
Baby Piggie-Wig!
Oh, sometimes we are all tied up
In a bag so tight.
This is when the baby goes
“To sleepy-bye” at night.
Then there’s nothing else to do
But cuddle down and rest—
Just as little birdies cuddle
In their little nest.
Chorus:
Father-Pig and Mother-Pig
And Big-Brother Pig,
And Sister-Pig, and darling little
Baby Piggie-Wig!
To the tune of “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush.”
This is the way my fingers stand,
Fingers stand, fingers stand,
This is the way my fingers stand,
So early in the morning.
This is the way I fold my hand,
Fold my hand, fold my hand,
This is the way I fold my hand,
So early in the morning.
This is the way they dance about,
Dance about, dance about,
This is the way they dance about,
So early in the morning.
This is the way they go to rest,
Go to rest, go to rest,
This is the way they go to rest,
So early in the morning.
Thumbkin, Pointer, Middleman big,
Sillyman, Weeman, rig-a-jig-jig.
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
This is little Tommy Thumb,
Round and smooth as any plum.
This is busy Peter Pointer:
Surely he’s a double-jointer.
This is mighty Toby Tall,
He’s the biggest one of all.
This is dainty Reuben Ring:
He’s too fine for anything.
And this little wee one, maybe,
Is the pretty Finger-baby.
All the five we’ve counted now,
Busy fingers in a row.
Every finger knows the way
How to work and how to play;
Yet together work they best,
Each one helping all the rest.
[A] From “Songs and Music of Froebel’s Mother Play”; used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Company.
Robert Barns, fellow fine,
Can you shoe this horse of mine,
So that I may cut a shine?
Yes, good sir, and that I can,
As well as any other man;
There a nail, and here a prod,
And now, good sir, your horse is shod.
A little boy and a little girl
Lived in an alley;
Said the little boy to the little girl,
“Shall I, oh! shall I?”
Said the little girl to the little boy,
“What will you do?”
Said the little boy to the little girl,
“I will kiss you.”
(As the last words are sung, the mother kisses
the little one in the folds of the neck.)
OFF WITH MOTHER GOOSE
from a drawing by mabel lucie attwell
Jack, be nimble,
Jack, be quick;
(Jack is one hand walking along on its
fore- and middle-fingers.)
Jack, jump over
The candlestick.
(Fist closed; uplifted thumb for candle.
Jack jumps over it.)
Two little hands so soft and white,
This is the left—this is the right.
Five little fingers stand on each,
So I can hold a plum or a peach.
But if I should grow as old as you
Lots of little things these hands can do.
————
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,
And then it will serve for Tommy and me.
A Froebel Finger Play
Here upon the leaves at rest
A little bird has built her nest.
Two tiny eggs within she’s laid,
And many days beside them stayed.
Now she’s happy; listen well!
Two baby birds break through the shell.
Don’t you hear them? “Peep! peep! peep!
We love you, mother. Cheep! cheep! cheep!”
There were two blackbirds sitting on a hill,
(Little pieces of paper perched on forefingers.)
One named Jack, the other named Jill.
Fly away, Jack; fly away, Jill.
(Fingers soar gently in the air.)
Come again, Jack; come again, Jill.
(Fingers fly back.)
Is Master Smith within? Yes, that he is.
Can he set a shoe? Ay, marry, two.
Here a nail, and there a nail,
Tick—tack—too.
Little Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail,
(Right hand extended in shape of a bird is poised
on extended forefinger of left hand.)
Niddle noddle went his head,
And waggle went his tail.
(Little finger of right hand waggles from side to side.)
Good little Mother,
How do you do?
Dear strong “Daddy,”
Glad to see you!
Big tall Brother,
Pleased you are here.
Kind little Sister,
You need not fear,
Glad welcome we’ll give you,
And Babykins, too.
Yes, Babykins,
How do you do?
Pump, pump, pump,
Water, water, come;
Here a rush, there a gush,
Done, done, done.
A Froebel Finger Play
Look, my dear, at this window clear.
See how the light shines through in here.
If you would always see the light,
Keep your heart’s window clean and bright.
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?
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.
(At this line somebody’s nose gets nipped.)
A Froebel Finger Play
Now I’m going to open my pigeon-house door.
The pigeons fly out to the light,
Straight to the meadows so pleasant they soar,
And flutter about with delight.
But at evening they’ll all come home at last,
And the door of the house I’ll then shut fast.
Said this little fairy, “I’m as thirsty as can be.”
Said this little fairy, “I’m hungry, too, dear me!”
Said this little fairy, “Who’ll tell us where to go?”
Said this little fairy, “I’m sure that I don’t know.”
Said this little fairy, “Let’s brew some dewdrop tea.”
So they sipped it and ate honey beneath the maple tree.
See the little mousie, creeping up the stair,
Looking for a warm nest—there, oh, there!
(Mother’s fingers creep up the body, and finally fumble in baby’s neck.)
A Froebel Finger Play
Baby, would you like to make
For yourself a little cake?
Pat it gently, smooth it down.
Baker says: “Now, in to brown;
Bring it here, baby dear,
While the oven fire burns clear.”
“Baker, see, here is my cake;
Bake it well for baby’s sake.”
“In the oven, right deep down,
Here the cake will soon get brown.”
What do I see? Baby’s knee.
Tickily, tickily, tic, tac, tee.
One for a penny, two for a pound;
Tickily, tickily, round and round.
Up, down—up, down.
One foot up and one foot down,
All the way to London town.
Tra la la la la la.
My fingers are so sleepy
It’s time they went to bed,
So first, you Baby Finger
Tuck in your Little Head.
Ringman, come now its your turn,
And then come, Tallman Great;
Now, Pointer Finger, hurry
Because its getting late.
Let’s see if all are snuggled.
No, here’s one more to come,
So come, lie close, little brothers,
Make room for Master Thumb.
Ten little squirrels up in a tree—
(Ten fingers outspread.)
The first two said: “What do I see?”
(Thumbs only.)
The next two said: “A man with a gun.”
(Forefingers only.)
The next two said: “Let’s run, let’s run.”
(Middle fingers only.)
The next two said: “Let’s hide in the shade.”
(Ring fingers only.)
The last two said: “We’re not afraid.”
(Little fingers only.)
Bang! went a gun.
(Clap hands.)
Away they all run.
(All fingers scamper off.)
See my little garden,
How I rake it over,
Then I sow the little brown seeds,
And with soft earth cover.
Now the raindrops patter
On the earth so gayly;
See the big round sun smile
On my garden daily.
The little plant is waking;
Down the roots grow creeping;
Up now come the leaflets
Through the brown earth peeping.
Soon the buds will laugh up
Toward the springtime showers;
Soon my buds will open
Into happy flowers.
BY EMILIE POULSSON
This is the mother, so busy at home,
Who loves her dear children, whatever may come.
This is the father, so brave and so strong,
Who works for his family all the day long.
This is the brother, who’ll soon be a man,
He helps his good mother as much as he can.
This is the sister, so gentle and mild,
Who plays that the dolly is her little child.
This is the baby, all dimpled and sweet,
How soft his wee hands and his chubby pink feet!
Father, and mother,
and children so dear,
Together you see them,
one family here.
[B]
From “Songs and Music of Froebel’s Mother Play”;
used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Co.
IN DREAMLAND
Johnny shall have a new bonnet,
And Johnny shall go to the fair,
And Johnny shall have a new ribbon
To tie up his bonny brown hair.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny?
As well as another body?
And here’s a leg for a stocking,
And here is a foot for a shoe,
And he has a kiss for his daddy,
And two for his mammy, I trow.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny
As well as another body?
To market ride the gentlemen,
So do we, so do we;
Then comes the country clown,
Hobbledy gee, Hobbledy gee;
First go the ladies, nim, nim, nim,
Next come the gentlemen, trim, trim, trim;
Then come the country clowns, gallop-a-trot.
Here goes my lord—
A trot! a trot! a trot! a trot!
Here goes my lady—
A canter! a canter! a canter! a canter!
Here goes my young master—
Jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch!
Here goes my young miss—
An amble! an amble! an amble! an amble!
The footman lags behind,
And goes gallop, a gallop, a gallop, to make up his time.
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;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backward and forward, round and round;
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,
With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!
Here in the morning we’re starting so soon,
Give us a message, we’ll ride to the moon,
Straight through the meadows and hop o’er the stile,
And we will but charge you a farthing a mile.
A farthing a mile! a farthing a mile!
We will but charge you a farthing a mile.
Catch him, crow! Carry him, kite!
Take him away till the apples are ripe;
When they are ripe and ready to fall,
Home comes [Johnny], apples and all.
This is the way the ladies ride,
Nin! Nin! Nin!
This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Trot! Trot! Trot!
This is the way the farmers ride,
Jogglety! Jogglety! Jogglety! Jog!
Ride away, ride away,
Johnny shall ride,
And he shall have pussy-cat
Tied to one side;
And he shall have little dog
Tied to the other,
And Johnny shall ride
To see his grandmother.
To market, to market,
To buy a plum bun;
Home again, home again,
My journey is done.
BY MARY F. BUTTS
Every evening Baby goes
Trot, trot, to town—
Across the river, through the fields,
Up hill and down.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
To buy a woolen gown.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The birds fly down, alack!
“You cannot have our feathers, dear,”
They say; “so please trot back.”
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The lambs come bleating near.
“You cannot have our wool,” they say;
“But we are sorry, dear.”
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Trot, trot, to town.
She buys a red rose for her hat,
She buys a cotton gown.
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
And a two-penny apple pie.
Ride a cock-horse to Shrewsbury-cross,
To buy little Johnny a galloping horse;
It trots behind and it ambles before,
And Johnny shall ride till he can ride no more.
here are one, two, three, four, five, six story-book pictures. all little girls
and boys know the six stories that these six pictures belong
to. tell your mama and papa what the stories are.
THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN
from a drawing by anne anderson
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And, oh! it was all laden
With pretty things for thee!
There were candies 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!”
Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou wander?
Up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady’s chamber;
There I met an old man that would not say his prayers,
I took him by his hind legs and threw him down stairs.
Arthur O’Bower has broken his band,
He comes roaring up the land—
A King of Scots, with all his power,
Cannot turn Arthur of the Bower.
Once I saw a little bird
Come hop, hop, hop,
So I said, “Little bird,
Will you stop, stop, stop?”
I was going to the window
To say, “How do you do?”
But he shook his little tail
And far away he flew.
Ring-a-ring-a-roses,
A pocket full of posies;
Hush! hush! hush! hush!
We’re all tumbled down.
Cross patch,
Draw the latch,
Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup,
And drink it up,
And call your neighbors in.
Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring;
Merry was myself, and merry could I sing;
With a merry ding-dong, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!
Merry have we met, and merry have we been;
Merry let us part, and merry meet again;
With our merry sing-song, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!
There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Nineteen times as high as the moon;
Where she was going I couldn’t but ask it
For in her hand she carried a broom.
“Old woman, old woman, old woman, quoth I,
O whither, O whither, O whither so high?”
“To brush the cobwebs off the sky!”
“Shall I go with thee?” “Aye, by-and-by.”
From a Drawing by Arthur Rackham
“Where she was going I couldn’t but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.”
The fox and his wife they had a great strife,
They never ate mustard in all their whole life;
They ate their meat without fork or knife,
And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!
The fox jumped up on a moonlight night,
The stars they were shining, and all things bright.
Oh, ho! said the fox, it’s a very fine night
For me to go through the town, e-ho!
The fox when he came to yonder stile,
He lifted his lugs and he listened awhile;
Oh, ho, said the fox, it’s but a short mile
From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!
The fox when he came to the farmer’s gate,
Who should he see but the farmer’s drake;
I love you well for your master’s sake,
And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!
The gray goose she ran round the hay-stack.
Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat;
You’ll grease my beard and ride on my back
From this unto yonder wee town e-ho!
Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed,
She opened the casement, and popped out her head.
Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead,
And the fox is gone through the town, oh!
Then the old man got up in his red cap,
And swore he would catch the fox in a trap;
But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip,
And ran through the town, the town, e-oh!
When he got to the top of the hill,
He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill,
For joy that he was safe
Through the town, e-oh!
When the fox came back to his den,
He had young ones, both nine and ten.
“You’re welcome home, daddy; you may go again,
If you bring us such nice meat from the town, e-oh!”
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To draw 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.
Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?
I will go with you if I may
“I’m going to the meadow to see them a-mowing,
I’m going to help them make the hay.”
Bonny lass, bonny lass, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet serve the swine:
Thou shalt sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam,
And thou shalt eat strawberries, sugar, and cream!
Oh, where are you going,
My pretty maiden fair,
With your red rosy cheeks,
And your coal-black hair?
I’m going a-milking,
Kind sir, says she,
And it’s dabbling in the dew
Where you’ll find me.
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.
Ding—
Dong—
Bell!
Pussy’s in the well.
Who put her in? Little Johnny Green.
Who pulled her out? Big Johnny Stout.
What a naughty boy was that,
To drown poor pussy cat,
Who never did him any harm,
And killed the mice in his father’s barn.
London bridge is broken down,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
London bridge is broken down,
With a gay ladye.
How shall we build it up again?
Dance over my Lady Lee,
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with gravel and stone,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with gravel and stone,
With a gay ladye.
Gravel and stone will be washed away,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Gravel and stone will be washed away,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with iron and steel,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay ladye.
Iron and steel will bend and break,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Iron and steel will bend and break,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
With a gay ladye.
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll set a man to watch it then,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll set a man to watch it then,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll put a pipe within his mouth,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll put a pipe within his mouth,
With a gay ladye.
“Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea.”
All round the green gravel the grass grows so green,
And all the pretty maids are fit to be seen,
Wash them in milk, dress them in silk,
And the first to go down shall be married in green.
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get 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’s
To buy him some bread,
But when she came back
The poor dog was dead.
She went to the joiner’s
To buy him a coffin,
But when she came back
The poor dog was laughing.
She went to the butcher’s
To get him some tripe,
But when she came back
He was smoking his pipe.
She went to the hatter’s
To buy him a hat,
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber’s
To buy him a wig,
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the tailor’s
To buy him a coat,
But when she came back
He was riding a goat.
She went to the cobbler’s
To buy him some shoes,
But when she came back
He was reading the news.
She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen,
But when she came back
The dog was a-spinning.
She went to the hosier’s
To buy him some hose,
But when she came back
He 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.”
THE STORY OF MOTHER HUBBARD, TOLD IN JAPANESE PICTURES.
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,
Then went over hill and dale,
And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,
To tack to each sheep its tail.
Boys and girls, come out to play,
The moon does shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And meet your playfellows in the street,
Come with a whoop and come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk and I’ll find flour,
And we’ll have pudding in half an hour.
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
Up went the Pussy-Cat, and down went he!
Down came Pussy-Cat, away Robin ran,
Says little Robin Redbreast—catch me if you can.
Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade,
Pussy-Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid.
Little Robin chirped and sung, and what did Pussy say?
Pussy-Cat said Mew, mew, mew—and Robin flew away.
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn.
What! Is this the way you mind your sheep,
Under the haycock, fast asleep?
My maid Mary
She minds her dairy,
While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn.
Merrily runs the reel
And the little spinning-wheel
While I am singing and mowing my corn.
Hark! Hark!
The dogs do bark!
The beggars are come to town;
Some in rags,
Some in jags,
And some in velvet gowns.
Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot in the morn.
Bye, Baby bunting,
Father’s gone a-hunting,
Mother’s gone a-milking,
Sister’s gone a-silking,
And Brother’s gone to buy a skin,
To wrap the Baby bunting in.
Three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
And they began to cry:
“O mother dear,
We very much fear,
That we have lost our mittens.”
Lost your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow,”
No, you shall have no pie.
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
And they began to cry:
“O mother dear,
See here, see here!
See! we have found our mittens.”
Put on your mittens
You silly kittens,
And you may have some pie.
“Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r,
O let us have the pie.
Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r.”
The three little kittens put on their mittens,
And soon ate up the pie;
“O mother dear,
We greatly fear,
That we have soiled our mittens.”
Soiled your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then they began to sigh,
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
Then they began to sigh,
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
The three little kittens, they washed their mittens.
And hung them out to dry;
“O mother dear,
Do you not hear,
That we have washed our mittens?”
Washed your mittens!
Oh, you’re good kittens.
But I smell a rat close by;
Hush! Hush! “Mee-ow, mee-ow.
We smell a rat close by,
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
Tom, Tom 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.”
Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,
And her white blossoms are peeping around.
Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?
“I have been to seek a wife,
She’s the joy of my life,
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
What work can she do, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
What work can she do, charming Billy?
“She can brew and she can bake,
She can make a wedding cake—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
Can she make a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?
“She can make a cherry pie
Quick’s cat can wink her eye—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
How old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
How old is she, charming Billy?
“She is three times six, four times seven,
Twenty-eight and eleven—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
Three wise men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl,
And if the bowl had been stronger
My song had been longer.
“Little Tommy Tucker,
Sing for your supper.”
“What shall I sing?”
“White bread and butter.”
“How shall I cut it
Without any knife?
How shall I marry
Without any wife?”
Nine little mice sat down to spin;
Pussy passed by, and she peeped in.
“What are you at, my little men?”
“Making coats for gentlemen.”
“Shall I come in and bite off your threads?”
“No, no, Miss Pussy, you’ll snip off our heads.”
When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon a shelf;
The rats and the mice, they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife.
The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow;
The wheelbarrow broke, and my wife had a fall,
And down came the wheelbarrow, wife, and all.
BY PROF ISAAC TAYLOR HEADLAND
What a bonny little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
He makes people die of joy!
What a fine little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
Now whose is this loving little boy?
the little fat boy.
Do you want to buy a beauty?
Do you want to buy a beauty?
If you buy him he will watch your house,
And do it as his duty.
And no matter as to servants,
You may have them or may not,
But you’ll never need to lock your door,
Or give your house a thought.
“A Finger Test,” in chinese characters.
You strike three times on the top, you see,
And strike three times on the bottom for me,
Then top and bottom you strike very fast,
And open a door in the middle at last.
Mrs. Chang, Mrs. Lee,
Mama has a small babee;
Stands up firm,
Sits up straight,
Won’t eat milk,
But lives on cake.
our baby.
the little golden sister.
My little golden sister
Rides a golden horse slow,
And we’ll use a golden whip
If the horse doesn’t go.
A little gold fish
In a gold bowl we see,
And a gold-colored bird
On a gold-blossomed tree.
A gold-plated god
In a gold temple stands,
With a gold-plated baby
In his gold-plated hands.
(A Chinese finger-play)
Three horses are drinking,
Three horses are feeding,
The two men are fighting,
The old woman pleading,
The baby is crying,
But no one is heeding.
A plum blossom foot,
And a pudding face sweet;
He’s taller when he’s sitting
Than when standing on his feet.
(Another finger-play)
A great big brother,
And a little brother so,
A big bell-tower,
And a temple and a show,
And little baby wee, wee,
Always wants to go.
LADYBUG
Ladybug, ladybug,
Fly away, do;
Fly to the mountain,
And feed upon dew.
Feed upon dew,
And sleep on a rug,
And then run away
Like a good little bug.
Oh, my dear brother spider,
With your body big and red,
From the eaves you are hanging
On a single little thread.
The wily Emperor Tsin Chi-hwang
He built a wall both great and strong.
The steps were narrow, but the wall was stout,
So it kept the troublesome Tartars out.