When I was a little boy, I lived by myself, And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon the shelf; The rats and the mice did lead me such a life, I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife.

The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so narrow, I could not get my wife home without a wheelbarrow; The wheelbarrow broke, my wife got a fall, Down tumbled wheelbarrow, little wife, and all.

Where are you going, my pretty maid?

"I'm going a-milking, sir," she said.

May I go with you, my pretty maid?

"You're kindly welcome, sir," she said.

What is your father, my pretty maid?

"My father's a farmer, sir," she said.

Say, will you marry me, my pretty maid?

"Yes, if you please, kind sir," she said.

Will you be constant, my pretty maid?

"That I can't promise you, sir," she said.

Then I won't marry you, my pretty maid!

"n.o.body asked you, sir!" she said.

Who killed c.o.c.k Robin?

"I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed c.o.c.k Robin."

Who saw him die?

"I," said the Fly, "With my little eye, And I saw him die."

Who caught his blood?

"I," said the Fish, "With my little dish, And I caught his blood."

Who made his shroud?

"I," said the Beadle, "With my little needle, And I made his shroud."

Who shall dig his grave?

"I," said the Owl, "With my spade and showl [shovel], And I'll dig his grave."

Who'll be the parson?

"I," said the Rook, "With my little book, And I'll be the parson"

Who'll be the clerk?

"I," said the Lark, "If it's not in the dark, And I'll be the clerk."

Who'll carry him to the grave?

"I," said the Kite, "If 't is not in the night, And I'll carry him to his grave."

Who'll carry the link?

"I," said the Linnet, "I'll fetch it in a minute, And I'll carry the link."

Who'll be the chief mourner?

"I," said the Dove, "I mourn for my love, And I'll be chief mourner."

Who'll bear the pall?

"We," said the Wren, Both the c.o.c.k and the hen, "And we'll bear the pall."

Who'll sing a psalm?

"I," said the Thrush, As she sat in a bush, "And I'll sing a psalm."

And who'll toll the bell?

"I," said the Bull, "Because I can pull;"

And so, c.o.c.k Robin, farewell.

EPITAPH FOR ROBIN REDBREAST.

Thou shalt have a little bed Made for thee, and overspread With brown leaves for coverlet, Which the tearful dew has wet.

I, among the songs of Spring, Will miss the song thou didst not sing.

"PLAY WITH ME!"

The kitten came this morning, and said, With a touch of her paw and a turn of her head?

"Play, play with me!"

And Skye, the terrier, caught my hand, And tried to make me understand,-- "Play, play with me!"

And Nelly nipped my shoulder quite hard, And then she went prancing around the yard-- "Play, play with me!"

I played with them all! Now, wouldn't you play, If a little child, like me, should say, "Play, play with me?"

THE PIPER.

Piping down the valleys wild.

Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:--

"Pipe a song about a lamb:"

So I piped with merry cheer.

"Piper, pipe that song again:"

So I piped; he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer:"

So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read."