Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
He learnt to play when he was young.
He with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleased all the girls and boys.

Some little mice sat in a barn to spin,
Pussy came by, and she popped her head in;
"Shall I come in and cut your threads off?"
"Oh, no, kind sir, you will snap our heads off."

[Illustration]

Cock crows in the morn,
To tell us to rise.
And he who lies late
Will never be wise:

For early to bed,
And early to rise,
Is the way to be healthy
And wealthy and wise.

Ding, dong, darrow,
The cat and the sparrow;
The little dog has burnt his tail,
And he shall be hanged to-morrow.

[Illustration]

To market, to market, to buy a plum cake,
Home again, home again, market is late;
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Home again, home again, market is done.

There was a little girl who wore a little hood,
And a curl down the middle of her forehead;
When she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.

Bryan O'Lin had no breeches to wear,
So he bought him a sheepskin and made him a pair.
With the skinny side out, and the woolly side in,
"Ah, ha, that is warm!" said Bryan O'Lin.

Dogs in the garden, catch 'em, Towser;
Cows in the cornfield, run, boys, run;
Cats in the cream-pot, run, girls, run, girls;
Fire on the mountains, run, boys, run.

[Illustration]

Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it:
Not a penny in it,
But a ribbon 'round it.

[Illustration:

_One foot up, the other foot down,
And that is the way to London town_]

See-saw, sacaradown, sacaradown.
Which is the way to London town?
One foot up, and the other foot down,
That is the way to London town.

On Saturday night, it shall be my care
To powder my locks and curl my hair.
On Sunday morning, my love will come in,
When he will marry me with a gold ring.

Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town
In a fine petticoat and a green gown.

[Illustration]

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir, yes, sir,
Three bags full:

[Illustration]

One for the master,
One for the dame,
But none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.

Pitty Patty Polt,
Shoe the wild colt;
Here a nail,
And there a nail,
Pitty Patty Polt.

As high as a castle,
As