Little Jack Horner Sat in a corner, Eating of Christmas pye; He put in his thumb, And pull'd out a plum, And cry'd, What a good boy am I!

Little Tom Tucker, Sings for his supper; What shall he eat?

White bread and b.u.t.ter.

How shall he cut it Without e'er a knife?

How will he be marry'd, Without e'er a wife.

A diller, a doller, A ten o'clock scholar, What makes you come so soon?

You us'd to come at ten o'clock, And now you come at noon.

I am a pretty wench, And I come a great way hence, And sweethearts I can get none: But every dirty sow, Can get sweethearts enow, And I, pretty wench, can get never a one.

What care I how black I be, Twenty pounds will marry me; If twenty wont, forty shall, I am my mother's bouncing girl.

Lady bird, lady bird, Fly away home; Your house is on fire, Your children will burn.

John, come sell thy fiddle, And buy thy wife a gown.

No, I'll not sell my fiddle, For ne'er a wife in town.

Goose-a, goose-a, gander, Where shall I wander?

Up stairs, down stairs, In my lady's chamber; There you'll find a cup of sack And a race of ginger.

THE SPEECH OF THE HORSE THAT SPOKE TO HIS MASTER.

Up the hill take care of me, Down the hill take care of thee, Give me no water while I am hot, On level ground spare me not.[D]

[D] N.B.--Don't you think he might as well have kept the last piece of advice to himself?

Sometimes the speech of the horse reminds his master of that which is better:

Up hill ride me not; Down hill gallop me not; On level ground spare me not; And in the stable forget me not.

Before the c.o.c.k-horse is mounted, we should learn to remember:

The rule of the road is a paradox quite, And custom has prov'd it so long: He that goes to the left is sure to go right, And he that goes right must go wrong.

Come, let's to bed, Says Sleepy-head; Sit up awhile, says Slow; Hang on the pot, Says greedy-gut, Let's sup before we go.

There was an old woman Liv'd under a hill, She put a mouse in a bag, And sent it to mill:

The miller did swear, By the point of his knife, He never took toll Of a mouse in his life.

There was an old woman, And she sold puddings and pies, She went to the mill, And the dust flew into her eyes: Hot pies and cold pies to sell!

Wherever she goes you may follow her by the smell.

To make your candles last for aye, You wives and maids give ear O!

To put 'em out's the only way, Says honest John Boldero.

I doubt, I doubt, My fire is out, My little dame an't at home; Come, bridle my hog, And saddle my dog, And fetch my little dame home.

Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, Beggars are coming to town; Some in jags, and some in rags, And some in velvet gowns.

When I was a batchelor, I lived by myself, And all the bread and cheese I had I laid upon a shelf; The rats and the mice they made such a strife, I was forc'd to go to London to buy me a wife; The roads were so bad, and the lanes were so narrow, I was forc'd to bring my wife home in a wheel-barrow: The wheel-barrow broke, and my wife got a fall, Deuce take the wheel-barrow, wife, and all.