[The following is quoted in Florio's 'New World of Words,'
fol., London, 1611, p. 3.]

To market, to market,
To buy a plum bun:
Home again, come again,
Market is done.

CCCLXXXIII.

Dance to your daddy,
My little babby,
Dance to your daddy;
My little lamb.

You shall have a fishy,
In a little dishy;
You shall have a fishy
When the boat comes in.

CCCLXXXIV.

Tom shall have a new bonnet,
With blue ribbands to tie on it,
With a hush-a-bye and a lull-a-baby,
Who so like to Tommy's daddy?

CCCLXXXV.

Bye, baby bumpkin,
Where's Tony Lumpkin?
My lady's on her death-bed,
With eating half a pumpkin.

CCCLXXXVI.

[From 'The Pleasant Com[oe]die of Patient Grissell,' 1603.]

Hush, hush, hush, hush!
And I dance mine own child,
And I dance mine own child,
Hush, hush, hush, hush!

CCCLXXXVII.

Hush thee, my babby,
Lie still with thy daddy,
Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
To grind thee some wheat,
To make thee some meat,
And so, my dear babby, lie still.

CCCLXXXVIII.

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.

CCCLXXXIX.

I won't be my father's Jack,
I won't be my mother's Gill,
I will be the fiddler's wife,
And have music when I will.
T'other little tune,
T'other little tune,
Pr'ythee, love, play me
T'other little tune.

CCCXC.

Danty baby diddy,
What can a mammy do wid'e,
But sit in a lap,
And give 'un a pap?
Sing danty baby diddy.

CCCXCI.

Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring;
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.

CCCXCII.

Bye, O my baby!
When I was a lady,
O then my poor baby did'nt cry!
But my baby is weeping,
For want of good keeping,
Oh, I fear my poor baby will die!

CCCXCIII.

Hush-a-bye, a ba lamb,
Hush-a-bye a milk cow,
You shall have a little stick
To beat the naughty bow-wow.

CCCXCIV.

Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,
When the bough bends, the cradle will fall,
Down will come baby