We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
  Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
  With a gay ladye.

Silver and gold will be stolen away,
  Dance over my Lady Lee,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
  With a gay ladye.

We’ll set a man to watch it then,
  Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll set a man to watch it then,
  With a gay ladye.

Suppose the man should fall asleep,
  Dance over my Lady Lee,
Suppose the man should fall asleep,
  With a gay ladye.

We’ll put a pipe into his mouth,
  Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll put a pipe into his mouth,
  With a gay ladye.

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

  Little king Boggen he built a fine hall,
  Pie-crust and pastry-crust, that was the wall;
The windows were made of black-puddings and white,
And slated with pancakes—­you ne’er saw the like.

To bed, to bed, says Sleepy-Head;
  Let’s stay a while, says Slow;
Put on a pot, says Greedy-Sot,
  We’ll sup before we go.

Dingty diddledy, my mammy’s maid,
She stole oranges, I am afraid: 
Some in her pocket, some in her sleeve,
She stole oranges, I do believe.

Ride away, ride away,
  Johnny shall ride,
And he shall have pussy-cat
  Tied to one side;
And he shall have little dog
  Tied to the other,
And Johnny shall ride
  To see his grandmother.

Hush-a-bye, baby, lie still with thy daddy,
  Thy mammy is gone to the mill,
To get some meal to bake a cake;
  So pray, my dear baby, lie still.

Little lad, little lad,
Where were you born? 
Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
Where they sup butter-milk
With a ram’s horn;
And a pumpkin scoop’d,
With a yellow rim,
Is the bonny bowl they breakfast in.

Pretty John Watts,
We are troubled with rats,
Will you drive them out of the house? 
We have mice too in plenty,
That feast in the pantry,
But let them stay and nibble away,
What harm in a little brown mouse?

Shake a leg, wag a leg, when will you gang? 
At midsummer, mother, when the days are lang.

See saw, sacradown, sacradown,
Which is the way to Boston town? 
One foot up, the other foot down,
That is the way to Boston town.

Tom Brown’s two little Indian boys,
    One ran away,
    The other would n’t stay,
Tom Brown’s two little Indian boys.

Hop away, skip away, my baby wants to play. 
My baby wants to play every day.

Bow, wow, wow, whose dog art thou? 
Little Tom Tinker’s dog, bow, wow, wow.

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