Anonymous

Fe fi fo fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.

Sing, sing! What shall I sing? The cat’s run away with the pudding-bag string.

Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea, Silver buckles on his knee; He’ll come back and marry me, Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

One misty, moisty morning, When cloudy was the weather, I chanced to meet an old man Clothed all in leather; He began to compliment, And I began to grin— “How do you do?” and “How do you do?” And “How do you do?” again!

Ten little Indians standing in a line— One went home, and then there were nine.

When good King Arthur ruled this land, He was a goodly king, He bought three pecks of barley meal, To make a bag pudding.

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark, The beggars are coming to town; Some in rags, some in tags, And some in velvet gowns.

The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, Heigho! the derry oh, the farmer in the dell.

Sukey, take it off again, They’ve all gone away.

Little Tommy Tittlemouse Lived in a little house; He caught fishes In other men’s ditches.

Polly, put the kettle on, We’ll all have tea.

I had a little pony, His name was Dapple Gray; I lent him to a lady To ride a mile away. She whipped him, she slashed him, She rode him through the mire; I would not lend my pony now For all the lady’s hire.

One flew east, one flew west, One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

A dillar, a dollar, A ten o’clock scholar, What makes you come so soon? You used to come at ten o’clock, And now you come at noon.

Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green; When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.

There was a little man, and he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead; He went to the brook, and saw a little duck, And shot it through the head, head, head.

There was an old woman Lived under a hill; And if she’s not gone, She lives there still.

Doctor Foster went to Gloucester In a shower of rain; He stepped in a puddle, up to his middle, And never went there again.

O do you know the muffin man, The muffin man, the muffin man, O do you know the muffin man, That lives in Drury Lane?

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

All day they hunted, And nothing did they find, But a ship a-sailing, A-sailing with the wind.

There were three jolly huntsmen, As I have heard them say, And they would go a-hunting Upon St. David’s Day.

In fir tar is, In oak none is. In mud eel is, In clay none is. Goats eat ivy. Mares eat oats.

Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it; There was not a penny in it, But a ribbon round it.

Rub-a-dub-dub, Three men in a tub, And who do you think they be? The butcher, the baker, The candlestick-maker; And all of them went to sea!

I saw three ships come sailing by, Come sailing by, come sailing by, I saw three ships come sailing by, On New Year’s Day in the morning.

Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John, He went to bed with his stockings on; One shoe off, one shoe on; Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John.

There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile; He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

Jack, be nimble, Jack, be quick, Jack, jump over the candlestick.

Peter, Peter Pumpkin-Eater, Had a wife and couldn’t keep her. He put her in a pumpkin shell, And there he kept her very well.

Hickety pickety, my black hen, She lays eggs for gentlemen. Gentlemen come every day To see what my black hen doth lay.

Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet, Eating some curds and whey. Along came a spider, And sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.

What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy dogs’ tails; That’s what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice, and everything nice; That’s what little girls are made of.

Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday: This is the end Of Solomon Grundy.

Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child has to work for its living, But a child that’s born on the Sabbath day Is fair and wise and good and gay.

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London to look at the queen. Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under the chair.

The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will poor robin do then, Poor thing? He’ll sit in a barn, To keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing, Poor thing!

Old mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard, To fetch her poor dog a bone; But when she came there The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.

There was an old woman tossed in a blanket, Seventeen times as high as the moon; But where she was going no mortal could tell, For under her arm she carried a broom. Old woman, old woman, old woman, said I, Whither, ah whither, ah whither so high? To sweep the cobwebs from the sky, And I’ll be with you by and by.

Little Polly Flinders Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty little toes. Her mother came and caught her, And whipped her little daughter For spoiling her nice new clothes.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; All the king’s horses And all the king’s men Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep, And cannot tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they’ll come home, And bring their tails behind them.

I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear But a silver nutmeg and a golden pear; The king of Spain’s daughter came to visit me, And all for the sake of my little nut tree.

Curlylocks, Curlylocks, Wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash dishes Nor yet feed the swine, But sit on a cushion And sew a fine seam, And feed upon strawberries, Sugar and cream.

Pease-porridge hot, pease-porridge cold, Pease-porridge in the pot, nine days old.

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns; If you have no daughters, give them to your sons.

“Nobody asked you, sir,” she said.

“My face is my fortune, sir,” she said.

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son, Stole a pig, and away he run; The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went howling down the street.

“Where are you going to, my pretty maid?” “I’m going a-milking, sir,” she said.

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son, He learned to play when he was young. But all the tune that he could play Was “Over the hills and far away.”

Ride a cockhorse to Banbury Cross, To see a fine lady upon a white horse; Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children she didn’t know what to do; She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

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; Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before a king? The king was in his countinghouse Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes, Along came a blackbird, And snipped off her nose.

Four and twenty tailors went to kill a snail, The best man among them durst not touch her tail. She put out her horns like a little Kyloe cow, Run, tailors, run, or she’ll kill you all e’en now.

Goosey goosey gander, Whither shall I wander? Upstairs and downstairs, And in my lady’s chamber; There I met an old man who wouldn’t say his prayers; I took him by the left leg And threw him down the stairs.

Come, let’s to bed, Says Sleepyhead; Tarry awhile, says Slow; Put on the pot, Says Greedy-gut, We’ll sup before we go.

Bye baby bunting, Daddy’s gone a-hunting. Gone to get a rabbit skin To wrap the baby bunting in.

The Queen of Hearts She made some tarts, All on a summer’s day; The Knave of Hearts He stole the tarts, And took them clean away.

Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief; Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef. I went to Taffy’s house, Taffy wasn’t in; Taffy came to my house and stole a silver pin. I went to Taffy’s house; Taffy wasn’t home. Taffy came to my house and stole a marrow bone. I went to Taffy’s house and Taffy was in bed; So I picked up the poker and hit him in the head.

Seesaw, Margery Daw, Jacky shall have a new master; Jacky must have but a penny a day, Because he can work no faster.

Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after.

Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea in a bowl: And if the bowl had been stronger, My song had been longer.

High diddle diddle The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such craft And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Little Tom Tucker Sings for his supper; What shall he eat? White bread and butter. How will he cut it Without e’er a knife? How will he be married Without e’er a wife?

Crosspatch, draw the latch, Set by the fire and spin: Take a cup and drink it up, Then call your neighbors in.

Ding dong bell, Pussy’s in the well. Who put her in? Little Johnny Green.

Simple Simon met a pieman Going to the fair: Says Simple Simon to the pieman, “Let me taste your ware.”

This little pig went to market; This little pig stayed home; This little pig had roast beef; This little pig had none; And this little pig cried, Wee, wee, wee! All the way home.

Little boy blue, come blow your horn, The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn; But where is the boy who looks after the sheep? He’s under the haystack fast asleep. Will you wake him? No, not I, For if I do, he’ll be sure to cry.

“Who saw him die?” “I,” said the fly, “With my little eye, I saw him die.”

“Who killed Cock Robin?” “I,” said the sparrow, “With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.”

Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement’s. You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin’s. When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey. When I grow rich, Say the bells of Shoreditch.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed, Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockleshells, And pretty maids all in a row.

Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, Three bags full: One for my master, And one for my dame, And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane.

Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home, Your house is on fire, and your children will burn.

Hickory dickory dock, The mouse ran up the clock, The clock struck one, The mouse ran down; Hickory dickory dock.

The man in the wilderness asked of me How many strawberries grew in the sea. I answered him as I thought good, “As many as red herrings grow in the wood.”

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, Each wife had seven sacks, Each sack had seven cats, Each cat had seven kits: Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were there going to St. Ives?

London Bridge is falling down, My fair lady.

Tell tale tit, Your tongue shall be slit, And all the dogs in our town Shall have a bit.

The lion and the unicorn Were fighting for the crown; The lion beat the unicorn All round about the town. Some gave them white bread, And some gave them brown; Some gave them plum cake, And sent them out of town.

Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, Eating a Christmas pie. He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum, And said, “What a good boy am I!”

Rain, rain, go away, Come again another day.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man, Bake me a cake as fast as you can; Pat it and prick it, and mark it with B, Put it in the oven for baby and me.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat, His wife could eat no lean; And so betwixt them both, They licked the platter clean.

The King of France went up the hill With forty thousand men; The King of France came down the hill And ne’er went up again.

Old King Cole Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he, He called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.

With a rowley powley gammon and spinach, Heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley.

Three blind mice, see how they run! They all ran after the farmer’s wife, She cut off their tails with a carving knife, Did you ever see such a sight in your life, As three blind mice?

A frog he would a-wooing go. Sing heigh-ho says Rowley.

It’s like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack, It’s like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart, It’s like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You’re dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.

Cock a doodle doo! My dame has lost her shoe; My master’s lost his fiddle stick, And knows not what to do.

A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds.