go right,
Would you know the reason why?
He follows his nose where'er he goes,
And that stands all awry.

CCCLXII.

O that I was where I would be,
Then would I be where I am not!
But where I am must be,
And where I would be I cannot.

CCCLXIII.

[The following was sung to the tune of Chevy Chase. It was
taken from a poetical tale in the 'Choyce Poems,' 12mo,
London, 1662, the music to which may be seen in D'Urfey's
'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' 1719, vol. iv, p. 1.]

Three children sliding on the ice
Upon a summer's day,
As it fell out, they all fell in,
The rest they ran away.

Now had these children been at home,
Or sliding on dry ground,
Ten thousand pounds to one penny,
They had not all been drown'd.

You parents all that children have,
And you that have got none,
If you would have them safe abroad,
Pray keep them safe at home.

CCCLXIV.

There was a man of Newington,
And he was wond'rous wise,
He jump'd into a quickset hedge,
And scratch'd out both his eyes:
But when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main,
He jump'd into another hedge,
And scratch'd 'em in again.

CCCLXV.

Up stairs, down stairs, upon my lady's window,
There I saw a cup of sack and a race of ginger;
Apples at the fire, and nuts to crack,
A little boy in the cream-pot up to his neck.

CCCLXVI.

I would if I cou'd,
If I cou'dn't, how cou'd I?
I cou'dn't, without I cou'd, cou'd I?
Cou'd you, without you cou'd, cou'd ye?
Cou'd ye, cou'd ye?
Cou'd you, without you cou'd, cou'd ye?

CCCLXVII.

If all the world was apple-pie,
And all the sea was ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
What should we have for drink?

CCCLXVIII.

Tobacco wick! tobacco wick!
When you're well, 'twill make you sick:
Tobacco wick! tobacco wick!
'Twill make you well when you are sick.

CCCLXIX.

[The following occurs in a MS. of the seventeenth century, in
the Sloane Collection, the reference to which I have mislaid.]

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

CCCLXX.

[The conclusion of the following resembles a verse in the
nursery history of Mother Hubbard.]

There was an old woman, and what do you think?
She lived upon