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LXXVII.

THE man in the moon,
Came tumbling down,
And ask'd his way to Norwich.

He went by the south,

And burnt his mouth

With supping cold pease-porridge.

LXXVIII.

OUR saucy boy Dick,

Had a nice little stick

Cut from a hawthorn tree;
And with this pretty stick,
He thought he could beat

A boy much bigger than he.

But the boy turned round,
And hit him a rebound,

Which did so frighten poor Dick,

That, without more delay,

He ran quite away,

And over a hedge he jumped quick.

LXXIX.

Moss was a little man, and a little mare did

buy,

For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh;

She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there,

But one night she strayed away-so Moss lost his mare.

Moss got up next morning to catch her fast asleep,

And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep.

Dead in a ditch he found her, and glad to find her there,

So I'll tell you by and bye, how Moss caught his mare.

Rise! stupid, rise! he thus to her did say; Arise, you beast, you drowsy beast, get up without delay,

For I must ride you to the town, so don't lie sleeping there;

C

He put the halter round her neck-so Moss caught his mare.

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ST

LXXX.

T. Swithin's day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain :

St. Swithin's day, if thou be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain na mair,

LXXXI.

To make your candles last for a',
You wives and maids give ear-o!
To put 'em out's the only way,
Says honest John Boldero.

LXXXII.

Ir wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride;
If turnips were watches,

I would wear one by my side.

LXXXIII.

[Hours of sleep.]

NATURE requires five,
Custom gives seven !

Laziness takes nine,

And Wickedness eleven.

LXXXIV.

THREE straws on a staff,

Would make a baby cry and laugh.

LXXXV.

SEE a pin and pick it up,

All the day you'll have good luck;
See a pin and let it lay,

Bad luck you'll have all the day!

LXXXVI.

Go to bed first, a golden purse;
Go to bed second, a golden pheasant;
Go to bed third, a golden bird!

LXXXVII.

WHEN the wind is in the east,
"Tis neither good for man nor beast;
When the wind is in the north,
The skilful fisher goes not forth;
When the wind is in the south,
It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth;
When the wind is in the west,
Then 'tis at the very best.

LXXXVIII.

;

BOUNCE BUCKRAM, velvet's dear
Christmas comes but once a year.

LXXXIX.

[One version of the following song, which I believe to be the genuine one, is written on the last leaf of MS. Harl. 6580, between the lines of a fragment of an old charter, originally used for binding the book, in a hand of the end of the seventeenth century, but unfortunately it is scarcely adapted for the "ears polite" of modern days.]

A MAN of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It's like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;

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