Eggs, b.u.t.ter, cheese, bread, Stick, stock, stone, dead, Stick him up, stick him down, Stick him in the old man"s crown.
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Rain, rain, Go away, Come again April day; Little Johnny Wants to play.
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Tom he was a Pi-per"s son, He learned to play when he was young; But all the tunes that he could play, Was "O-ver the hills and far away."
Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise, That he pleas-ed both the girls and boys, And they all stop-ped to hear him play, "O-ver the hills and far a-way."
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill, That those who heard him could ne-ver stand still; When-e-ver they heard him they be-gan to dance, Even pigs on their hind-legs would after him prance.
He met old Dame Trott with a basket of eggs, He u-sed his pipe and she u-sed her legs; She danc-ed a-bout till the eggs were all broke, She be-gan to fret, but he laugh-ed at the joke.
He saw a cross fel-low was beat-ing an a.s.s, Hea-vy la-den with pots, pans, dish-es, and gla.s.s; He took out his pipe and play-ed them a tune, And the Jack-a.s.s"s load was light-en-ed full soon.
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I had a little dog, they called him Buff, I sent him to the shop for a three cents worth of snuff: But he lost the bag, and spilt the snuff, So take that cuff, and that"s enough.
Molly, my sister, and I fell out, And what do you think it was about?
She loved coffee, and I loved tea, And that was the reason we couldn"t agree.
Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Very ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Sat.u.r.day, Buried on Sunday, This is the end Of Solomon Grundy.
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Handy Spandy, Jack a-dandy, Loves plum-cake and sugar-candy; He bought some at a grocer"s shop, And out he came, hop-hop-hop.
Go to bed Tom, go to bed Tom-- Merry or sober, go to bed Tom.
Mary had a pretty bird, Feathers bright and yellow, Slender legs, upon my word He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest notes he always sung, Which much delighted Mary, And often where the cage was hung, She stood to hear Canary.
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Lit-tle boy blue, come blow your horn; The sheep"s in the mea-dow, the cow"s in the corn.
Where"s the lit-tle boy that looks af-ter the sheep?
He"s un-der the hay-c.o.c.k fast a-sleep.
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I had a lit-tle po-ny; They call-ed him dap-ple grey.
I lent him to a lady, To ride a mile a-way.
She whip-ped him, she slash-ed him, She rode him through the mire; I would not lend my po-ny now, For all the lady"s hire.
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Pe-ter White Will ne"er go right, Would you know the rea-son why?
He fol-lows his nose, Wher-ever he goes, And that stands all aw-ry.
See, see. What shall I see?
A horse"s head where his tail should be.