Up in the green orchard there is a green tree,
The finest of pippins that ever you see;
The apples are ripe, and ready to fall,
And Reuben and Robin shall gather them all.

Harry cum Parry, when will you marry? 
    When apples and pears are ripe. 
I’ll come to our wedding without any bidding,
    And stay with the bride all night.

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,
  And merrily jump the style, boys,
A merry heart goes all the day,
  Your sad one tires in a mile, boys.

      I will sing you a song
      Of the days that are long,
  Of the woodcock and the sparrow,
Of the little dog that burnt his tail,
  And he shall be whipt to-morrow.

I had a little Doll,
  The prettiest ever seen,
She washed me the dishes,
  And kept the house clean. 
She went to the mill
  To fetch me some flour,
And always got it home
  In less than an hour;
She baked me my bread,
  She brewed me my ale,
She sat by the fire
  And told many a fine tale.

When I was a little he,
My mother took me on her knee,
Smiles and kisses gave with joy,
And call’d me oft her darling boy.

Is master Smith within?—­Yes, that he is. 
    Can he set a shoe?  Ay, marry, two. 
       Here a nail, and there a nail,
            Tick—­tack—­too.

Charley loves good cake and ale,
  Charley loves good candy,
Charley loves to kiss the girls,
  When they are clean and handy.

John O’Gudgeon he was a wild man,
He whipt his children now and then,
When he whipt them, he made them dance,
Out of Ireland into France.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And then he kept her very well.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had another and didn’t lover her;
Peter learnt to read and spell,
And then he loved her very well.

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

There was an old man,
  And he had a calf,
      And that’s half;
He took him out of the stall,
  And put him on the wall,
      And that’s all.

  There was a little man,
  And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead,
  He shot John Sprig
  Through the middle of his wig,
And knocked it right off his head.

  Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou wander? 
  Up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady’s chamber;
There I met an old man that would not say his prayers,
I took him by his hind legs and threw him down stairs.

The girl in the lane,
That couldn’t speak plain,
  Cried, Gobble, gobble, gobble;
The man on the hill,
That couldn’t stand still,
  Went, hobble, hobble, hobble.