THE MIRACULOUS GUINEA-PIG.

There was a little guinea-pig, Who being little was not big, He always walk'd upon his feet, And never fasted when he eat.

When from a place he ran away, He never at that place did stay; And while he ran, as I am told, He ne'er stood still for young or old.

He often squeak'd and sometimes vi'lent, And when he squeak'd he ne'er was silent; Tho' ne'er instructed by a cat, He knew a mouse was not a rat.

One day, as I am certify'd, He took a whim and fairly dy'd; And as I'm told by men of sense, He never has been living since.

THE SONG OF THE

PIPER AND THE FIDDLER'S WIFE.

We're all dry with drinking on't, We're all dry with drinking on't, The piper kiss'd the fiddler's wife, And I can't sleep for thinking on't.

A FAMOUS SONG ABOUT

BETTY PRINGLE'S PIG.

Did you not hear of Betty Pringle's pig?

It was not very little, nor yet very big; The pig sat down upon a dunghill, And there poor piggy he made his will.

Betty Pringle came to see this pretty pig That was not very little, nor yet very big; This little piggy it lay down and dy'd, And Betty Pringle sat down and cry'd.

Then Johnny Pringle bury'd this very pretty pig, That was not very little, nor yet very big; So here's an end of the song of all three, Johnny Pringle, Betty Pringle, and the little Piggy.

THE NURSE'S SONG.

Bee baw babby lou,[C] on a tree top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock, When the wind ceases the cradle will fall, Down comes baby and cradle and all.

[C] A corruption of the French nurse's threat in the fable: _He bas! la le loup!_ Hush! there's the wolf.

ANOTHER.

Bee baw bunting, Daddy's gone a hunting, To get a little lamb's skin, To lap his little baby in.

ANOTHER.

Bye O my baby, When I was a lady, O then my poor baby didn't cry; But my baby is weeping, For want of good keeping, Oh, I fear my poor baby will die.

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PART II.

A MAN OF WORDS.

A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds; And when the weeds begin to grow, It's like a garden full of snow; And when the snow begins to fall, It's like a bird upon the wall; And when the bird away does fly, It's like an eagle in the sky; And when the sky begins to roar, It's like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart, It's like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.

THE VALENTINE.

The rose is red, the violet's blue, The honey's sweet, and so are you.

Thou art my love, and I am thine; I drew thee to my Valentine: The lot was cast, and then I drew, And fortune said it should be you.

THREE BRETHREN OUT OF SPAIN.

We are three brethren out of Spain, Come to court your daughter Jane.

My daughter Jane she is too young, And has not learn'd her mother tongue.

Be she young, or be she old, For her beauty she must be sold.

So fare you well, my lady gay, We'll call again another day.

Turn back, turn back, thou scornful knight; And rub thy spurs till they be bright.

Of my spurs take you no thought, For in this town they were not bought.

So fare you well, my lady gay, We'll call again another day.

Turn back, turn back, thou scornful knight, And take the fairest in your sight.

The fairest maid that I can see, Is pretty Nancy, come to me.

Here comes your daughter safe and sound, Every pocket with a thousand pound; Every finger with a gay gold ring; Please to take your daughter in.