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d; Dance, little baby, and mother will sing, With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding! A farmer went trotting Upon his gray mare; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! With his daughter behind him, So rosy and fair; Lumpety, lumpety, lump! A raven cried "Croak"; And they all tumbled down; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! The mare broke her knees, And the farmer his crown; Lumpety, lumpety, lump. The mischievous raven Flew laughing away; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! And vowed he would serve them The same the next day; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! Hey, my kitten, my kitten, And hey, my kitten, my deary! Such a sweet pet as this Was neither far nor neary. Here we go up, up, up, And here we go down, down, downy; And here we go backwards and forwards, And here we go round, round, roundy. Hey diddle, dinkety, poppety, pet, The merchants of London they wear scarlet; Silk in the collar and gold in the hem, So merrily march the merchantmen. _Rhymes About a Little Woman_ This is the way the ladies ride-- Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side! This is the way the gentlemen ride-- Sitting astride, sitting astride! This is the way the grandmothers ride-- Bundled and tied, bundled and tied! This is the way the babykins ride-- Snuggled inside, snuggled inside! This is the way when they are late, They _all_ fly over a five-barred gate. William Canton. Every evening Baby goes Trot, trot, to town-- Across the river, through the fields, Up hill and down. Trot, trot, the Baby goes, Up hill and down, To buy a feather for her hat, To buy a woolen gown. Trot, trot, the Baby goes; The birds fly down, alack! "You cannot have our feathers, dear," They say; "so please trot back." Trot, trot, the Baby goes; The lambs come bleating near. "You cannot have our wool," they say; "But we are sorry, dear." Trot, trot, the Baby goes, Trot, trot, to town. She buys a red rose for her hat, She buys a cotton gown. Mary F. Butts. IV BABY'S FRIENDS Mary had a pretty bird, Feathers bright and yellow, Slender legs; upon my word, He was a pretty fellow. The sweetest notes he al
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