This is her son Jack, A plain-looking lad, He is not very good, Nor yet very bad.

She sent him to market, A live goose he bought, Here, mother, says he, It will not go for nought.

Jack's goose and her gander, Grew very fond; They'd both eat together, Or swim in one pond.

Jack found one morning, As I have been told, His goose had laid him An egg of pure gold.

Jack rode to his mother, The news for to tell, She call'd him a good boy, And said it was well.

Jack sold his gold egg To a rogue of a Jew, Who cheated him out of The half of his due.

Then Jack went a courting, A lady so gay, As fair as the lily, And sweet as the May.

The Jew and the Squire Came behind his back, And began to belabour The sides of poor Jack.

The old Mother Goose, That instant came in, And turned her son Jack Into fam'd Harlequin.

She then with her wand, Touch'd the lady so fine, And turn'd her at once Into sweet Columbine.

The gold egg into the sea Was thrown then,-- When Jack jump'd in, And got the egg back again.

The Jew got the goose, Which he vow'd he would kill, Resolving at once His pockets to fill.

Jack's mother came in, And caught the goose soon, And mounting its back, Flew up to the moon.

LXIV.

I'll tell you a story About Jack a Nory,-- And now my story's begun: I'll tell you another About Jack his brother,-- And now my story's done.

LXV.

[The "foles of Gotham" are mentioned as early as the fifteenth century in the 'Townley Mysteries;' and, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, Dr. Andrew Borde made a collection of stories about them, not however, including the following, which rests on the authority of nursery tradition.]

Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea in a bowl: And if the bowl had been stronger, My song would have been longer.

LXVI.

[The following two stanzas, although they belong to the same piece, are often found separated from each other.]

Robin and Richard were two pretty men; They laid in bed till the clock struck ten; Then up starts Robin, and looks at the sky, Oh! brother Richard, the sun's very high:

The bull's in the barn threshing the corn, The c.o.c.k's on the dunghill blowing his horn, The cat's at the fire frying of fish, The dog's in the pantry breading his dish.

LXVII.

My lady Wind, my lady Wind, Went round about the house to find A c.h.i.n.k to get her foot in: She tried the key-hole in the door, She tried the crevice in the floor, And drove the chimney soot in.

And then one night when it was dark, She blew up such a tiny spark, That all the house was pothered: From it she raised up such a flame, As flamed away to Belting Lane, And White Cross folks were smothered.

And thus when once, my little dears, A whisper reaches itching ears, The same will come, you'll find: Take my advice, restrain the tongue, Remember what old nurse has sung Of busy lady Wind!

LXVIII.

Old Abram Brown is dead and gone, You'll never see him more; He used to wear a long brown coat, That b.u.t.ton'd down before.

LXIX.

A dog and a c.o.c.k, A journey once took, They travell'd along till 'twas late; The dog he made free In the hollow of a tree, And the c.o.c.k on the boughs of it sate.

The c.o.c.k nothing knowing, In the morn fell a crowing, Upon which comes a fox to the tree; Says he, I declare, Your voice is above, All the creatures I ever did see.

Oh! would you come down I the fav'rite might own, Said the c.o.c.k, there's a porter below; If you will go in, I promise I'll come down.

So he went--and was worried for it too.

LXX.

Little Tom t.i.ttlemouse, Lived in a bell-house; The bell-house broke, And Tom t.i.ttlemouse woke.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LXXI.

Tommy kept a chandler's shop, Richard went to buy a mop, Tommy gave him such a knock, That sent him out of his chandler's shop,

LXXII.

When I was a little girl, about seven years old, I hadn't got a petticoat, to cover me from the cold; So I went into Darlington, that pretty little town, And there I bought a petticoat, a cloak, and a gown.

I went into the woods and built me a kirk, And all the birds of the air, they helped me to work; The hawk with his long claws pulled down the stone, The dove, with her rough bill, brought me them home; The parrot was the clergyman, the peac.o.c.k was the clerk, The bullfinch play'd the organ, and we made merry work.

LXXIII.

Pemmy was a pretty girl, But f.a.n.n.y was a better; Pemmy looked like any churl, When little f.a.n.n.y let her.

Pemmy had a pretty nose, But f.a.n.n.y had a better; Pemmy oft would come to blows, But f.a.n.n.y would not let her.

Pemmy had a pretty doll, But f.a.n.n.y had a better; Pemmy chatter'd like a poll, When little f.a.n.n.y let her.

Pemmy had a pretty song, But f.a.n.n.y had a better; Pemmy would sing all day long, But f.a.n.n.y would not let her.