Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow?
Silver bells and c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.ls, And pretty maids all in a row.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The man in the moon Came tumbling down, And asked the way to Norwich; He went by the south, And burnt his mouth With eating cold pease porridge.
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a rail, Niddle, naddle, went his head, wiggle, waddle, went his tail; Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a bridle, With a pair of speckle legs, and a green girdle.
Pit, pat, well-a-day!
Little Robin flew away; Where can little Robin be, But up in yon cherry-tree?
Ding, dong, darrow, The cat and the sparrow; The little dog has burnt his tail, And he shall be whipped to-morrow.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
DAME DUCK"S LESSONS TO HER DUCKLINGS.
OLD MOTHER DUCK has hatched a brood Of ducklings, small and callow: Their little wings are short, their down Is mottled grey and yellow.
There is a quiet little stream, That runs into the moat, Where tall green sedges spread their leaves, And water-lilies float.
Close by the margin of the brook The old Duck made her nest, Of straw, and leaves, and withered gra.s.s, And down from her own breast.
And there she sat for four long weeks, In rainy days and fine, Until the Ducklings all came out-- Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.
One peeped out from beneath her wing, One scrambled on her back: "That"s very rude," said old Dame Duck, "Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"
""T is close," said Dame Duck, shoving out The egg-sh.e.l.ls with her bill, "Besides, it never suits young ducks To keep them sitting still."
So, rising from her nest, she said, "Now, children, look at me: A well-bred duck should waddle so, From side to side--d"ye see?"
"Yes," said the little ones, and then She went on to explain: "A well-bred duck turns in its toes As I do--try again."
"Yes," said the Ducklings, waddling on.
"That"s better," said their mother; "But well-bred ducks walk in a row, Straight--one behind another."
"Yes," said the little Ducks again, All waddling in a row: "Now to the pond," said old Dame Duck-- Splash, splash! and in they go.
"Let me swim first," said old Dame Duck, "To this side, now to that; There, snap at those great brown-winged flies, They make young ducklings fat.
"Now when you reach the poultry-yard, The hen-wife, Molly Head, Will feed you, with the other fowls, On bran and mashed-up bread;
"The hens will peck and fight, but mind, I hope that all of you Will gobble up the food as fast As well-bred ducks should do.
"You"d better get into the dish, Unless it is too small; In that case, I should use my foot, And overturn it all."
The Ducklings did as they were bid, And found the plan so good, That, from that day, the other fowls Got hardly any food.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Is John Smith within?
Yes, that he is.
Can he set a shoe?
Ay, marry, two.
Here a nail, there a nail, Tick, tack, too.
John Cook he had a little grey mare, hee, haw, hum; Her legs were long and her back was bare, hee, haw, hum.
John Cook was riding up Shooter"s Bank, hee, haw, hum; The mare she began to kick and to prank, hee, haw, hum.
John Cook was riding up Shooter"s Hill, hee, haw, hum; His mare fell down and made her will, hee, haw, hum.
The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf, hee, haw, hum; If you want any more, you may sing it yourself, hee, haw, hum.
[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD KING COLE.]