Arthur O’Bower has broken his band,
And he comes roaring up the land,
King of Scots with all his power
Never can turn Sir Arthur O’Bower.

Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
Down tumble cradle and baby and all.

Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,
And her white blossoms are peeping around.

There was an old woman, and what do you think? 
She liv’d upon nothing—­but victuals and drink: 
Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,
And yet this old lady scarce ever was quiet.

The rose is red, the violet is blue,
The gillyflower sweet—­and so are you. 
These are the words you have me say
For a pair of new gloves on Easter-day.

Great A, little a, bouncing B,
The Cat’s in the cupboard, and she can’t see.

The little black dog ran round the house,
  And set the bull a roaring,
And drove the monkey in the boat,
  Who set the oar a rowing,
And scared the cock upon the rock,
  Who cracked his throat with crowing.

Oh, what a sweet little white Mouse! 
Oh, what a dear little bright Mouse! 
   With his eyes of pink,
   Going winky-wink,
Oh, what a sweet little white Mouse.

  My little Pink,
  I suppose you think,
I cannot do without you,
  I’ll let you know
  Before I go,
How little I care about you.

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

Saturday night shall be my whole care
To powder my locks and curl my hair;
On Sunday morning my love will come in
And marry me then with a pretty gold ring.

Dear Sensibility, O la! 
I heard a little lamb cry, baa! 
Says I, “So you have lost mamma?”
“Ah!”

The little lamb, as I said so,
Frisking about the fields did go,
And, frisking, trod upon my toe. 
“Oh!”

Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot nine days old. 
  Can you spell that with four letters? 
  Yes, I can—­T H A T.

There was a man in our town
  And he was wond’rous wise,
He jump’d into a bramble-bush,
  And scratch’d out both his eyes;
And when he saw his eyes were out,
  With all his might and main
He jump’d into another bush,
  And scratch’d them in again.

As I was going to sell my eggs,
I met a thief with bandy legs,
Bandy legs and crooked toes,
I tript up his heels, and he fell on his nose.

  Old mistress McShuttle
  Lived in a coal-scuttle,
Along with her dog and her cat;
  What they ate I can’t tell,
  But ’tis known very well,
That none of the party were fat.