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Of all the birds that ever I see,

The owl is the fairest in her degree:
For all the day long she sits in a tree,
And when the night comes, away flies she !
Te whit, te whow!
Sir knave to thou !
This song is well sung, I make you a vow,

, And he is a knave that drinketh now.



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SING a song of sixpence,

A bag full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbird

Baked in a pie.
When the pie was open'd,

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 parlour,

Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes ; By came a little bird,

And snapp'd off her nose.

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ROCK-A-BYE, baby, thy

cradle is green;

Father 's a nobleman, mother 's a queen; And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring; And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.


THE girl in the lane, that could n't speak plain,

Cried, gobble, gobble, gobble;
The man on the hill, that could n't stand still,

Went hobble, hobble, hobble.



TERE 'S a poor widow from Babylon,

With six poor children all alone;
One can bake, and one can brew,
One can shape, and one can sew,
One can sit at the fire and spin,
One can bake a cake for the king :
Come choose you east, come choose you west,
Come choose the one that


love best.


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