To market, to market, to buy a penny bun,
Home again, home again, market is done.

  The man in the wilderness,
      Asked me,
  How many strawberries
      Grew in the sea? 
I answered him as I thought good,
  As many red herrings
      As grew in the wood.

  Little Robin Redbreast
     Sat upon a tree,
  Up went the Pussy-Cat,
     And down went he;
Down came Pussy-Cat,
  Away Robin ran,
Says little Robin Redbreast—­
  Catch me if you can. 
  Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade,
  Pussy-Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid. 
Little Robin chirped and sung, and what did pussy say? 
Pussy-Cat said Mew, mew mew,—­and Robin flew away.

  Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye,
  Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie: 
  When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing;
  And wasn’t this a dainty dish to set before the king? 
The king was in the parlour, counting out his money;
The queen was in the kitchen, eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes,
There came a little blackbird and nipt off her nose.

Lady-bird, Lady-bird
Fly away home,
Your house is on fire,
Your children will burn.

One, Two—­buckle my shoe;
Three, Four—­open the door;
Five, Six—­pick up sticks;
Seven, Eight—­lay them straight;
Nine, Ten—­a good fat hen. 
Eleven, Twelve—­I hope you’re well;
Thirteen, Fourteen—­draw the curtain;
Fifteen, Sixteen—­the maid’s in the kitchen;
Seventeen, Eighteen—­she’s in waiting. 
Nineteen, Twenty—­my stomach’s empty.

       Snail, Snail,
       Come out of your hole,
Or else I’ll beat you black as a coal. 
       Snail, Snail,
       Put out your head,
Or else I’ll beat you till you’re dead.

The man in the moon came down too soon
    To inquire the way to Norridge;
The man in the South, he burnt his mouth
    With eating cold plum porridge.

When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon a shelf;
The rats and the mice, they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife. 
The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow;
The wheelbarrow broke, and my wife had a fall,
And down came the wheelbarrow, wife and all.

Charley Wag,
Ate the pudding and left the bag.

Sing, Sing!—­What shall I sing? 
The Cat’s run away with the Pudding-Bag String.

When I was a little boy, I washed my mammy’s dishes,
Now I am a great boy I roll in golden riches.

Bye, Baby bunting,
Father’s gone a hunting,
  Mother’s gone a milking,
  Sister’s gone a silking,
And Brother’s gone to buy a skin
To wrap the Baby bunting in.