XX

ROBIN and Richard

Were two pretty men;

They laid in bed

Till the clock struck ten;

Then up starts Robin

And looks at the sky,

Oh! brother Richard,

The sun's very high.

You go before with the bottle and bag,
And I will come after on little Jack Nag.

You go first, and open the gate,

And I'll come after, and break your pate.

XXI.

[From MS. Bib. Reg. 8 a. v. fol. 52, of the time of Henry VIII.]

WE make no spare

Of John Hunkes' mare;

And now I

Think she will die:

He thought it good

To put her in the wood,

To seek where she might ly dry;

If the mare should chance to fale,

Then the crownes would for her sale.

XXII.

I HAD a little dog, and his name was Blue Bell,

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gave him some work, and he did it very well; I sent him up stairs to pick up a pin,

He stepped in the coal-scuttle up to the chin.
I sent him to the garden to pick some sage,
He tumbled down and fell in a rage;

I sent him to the cellar, to draw a pot of beer,

He came up again, and said there was none there.

XXIII.

THERE was a little man,

And he woo'd a little maid,

And he said, little maid, will you wed, wed, wed?

I have little more to say,

Than will you, yea or nay,

For least said is soonest mended-ded, ded, ded.

The little maid replied,

Some say a little sighed,

But what shall we have for to eat, eat, eat?

Will the love that you're so rich in,

Make a fire in the kitchen?

Or the little god of Love turn the spit-spit, spit?

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XXIV.

I HAD a little moppet,
I put it in my pocket,

And fed it with corn and hay;
Then came a proud beggar,

And swore he would have her,
And stole my little moppet away.

XXV.

THERE were two birds sat on a stone,

Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;

One flew-away, and then there was one,

Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;

The other flew after, and then there was none,

Fa, la, la, la, lal de;

And so the poor stone was left all alone,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de!

XXVI.

THERE was a little Guinea-pig,
Who, being little, was not big,
He always walked upon his feet,
And never fasted when he eat.

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When from a place he ran away,
He never at that place did stay;
And while he ran, as I am told,
He ne'er stood still for young or old.

He often squeak'd, and sometimes vi'lent,
And when he squeak'd he ne'er was silent:
Tho' ne'er instructed by a cat,

He knew a mouse was not a rat.

One day, as I am certified,

He took a whim and fairly died;
And as I'm told by men of sense,
He never has been living since.

XXVII.

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 then 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 the little Piggie.

XXVIII.

THREE wise men of Gotham,

Went to sea in a bowl:

And if the bowl had been stronger,
My song would have been longer.

XXIX.

[THE following was most probably taken from a poetical tale in the "Choyce Poems," 12mo. Lond. 1662. As it is a very popular nursery song, I shall give the tale to which I allude in No. 30.]

THREE children sliding on the ice,

Upon a summer's day,

As it fell out, they all fell in,

The rest they ran away.

Now had these children been at home,

Or sliding on dry ground,

Ten thousand pounds to one penny,
They had not all been drown'd.

XXX.

[From "Ovid de Arte Amandi &c. Englished, together with Choice Poems, and rare Pieces of Drollery." 1662.]

SOME Christian people all give ear,

Unto the grief of us,

Caused by the death of three children dear;
The which it hapned thus.

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