LITTLE lad, little lad, where wast thou born?
Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.

DCCXVI.

LINCOLN was, and London is,
And York shall be

The fairest city of the three.

DCCXVII.

I LOST my mare in Lincoln Lane,
And couldn't tell where to find her,

Till she came home both lame and blind,
With never a tail behind her.

DCCXVIII.

CRIPPLE DICK upon a stick,
And Sandy on a sow,
Riding away to Galloway,

To buy a pound o' woo.

DCCXIX.

DRIDDLETY drum, driddlety drum,
There you see the beggars are come;
Some are here, and some are there,

And some are gone to Chidley Fair.

DCCXX.

LITTLE boy, pretty boy, where were you born?

In Lincolnshire, master: come, blow the cow's horn. A halfpenny pudding, a penny pie,

A shoulder of mutton, and that love I.

DCCXXI.

ISLE OF MAN.

ALL the bairns unborn will rue the day
That the Isle of Man was sold away;
And there's ne'er a wife that loves a dram,
But what will lament for the Isle of Man.

SEVENTEENTH CLASS.

Love and Matrimony.

DCCXXII.

As I was going up Pippen Hill,
Pippen Hill was dirty,
There I met a pretty miss,

And she dropt me a curtsey.

Little miss, pretty miss,

Blessings light upon you!
If I had half-a-crown a day,
I'd spend it all upon you.

DCCXXIII.

IT's once I courted as pretty a lass

As ever your eyes did see;

But now she's come to such a pass, She never will do for me.

She invited me to her own house,
Where oft I'd been before,

And she tumbled me into the hog-tub,
And I'll never go there any more.