Childhoods Favorites and Fairy Stories | Page 8

his little nose.
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Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish To set before the King?
The King was in his counting-house, Counting out his money; The Queen was in the parlor, Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes; When up came a blackbird, And nipped off her nose.
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Little Bo-peep, she lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep, And dreamed she heard them bleating; When she awoke she found it a joke, For they still were all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook, Determined for to find them; She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For they'd left their tails behind them!
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray, Unto a meadow hard by-- There she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye, And over the hillocks she raced; And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should, That each tail should be properly placed.
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What are little boys made of, made of? What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails; And that's what little boys are made of, made of.
What are little girls made of, made of? What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice, and all that's nice; And that's what little girls are made of, made of.
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A farmer went trotting Upon his gray mare; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! With his daughter behind him, So rosy and fair; Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried "Croak"; And they all tumbled down; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! The mare broke her knees, And the farmer his crown; Lumpety, lumpety, lump.
The mischievous raven Flew laughing away; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! And vowed he would serve them The same the next day; Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
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This is the way the ladies ride-- Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!
This is the way the gentlemen ride-- Sitting astride, sitting astride!
This is the way the grandmothers ride-- Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!
This is the way the babykins ride-- Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!
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WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY?
What does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? "Let me fly," says little birdie, "Mother, let me fly away."
Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away.
What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise and fly away."
Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby, too, shall fly away.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
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GOOD NIGHT
Little baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle-bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight; Little baby dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know How the bitter wind doth blow; And the winter's snow and rain Patter on the window-pane: But they cannot come in here, To my little baby dear;
For the window shutteth fast, Till the stormy night is past; And the curtains warm are spread Round about her cradle-bed: So till morning shineth bright, Little baby dear, good night.
JANE TAYLOR
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SWEET AND LOW
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
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BABY-LAND
Which is the way to Baby-Land? Any one can tell; Up one flight, To your right; Please to ring the bell.
What can you see in Baby-Land? Little folks in white, Downy heads, Cradle-beds, Faces pure and bright.
What do they do in Baby-Land? Dream and wake and play, Laugh and crow, Shout and grow, Jolly times have they.
What do they say in Baby-Land? Why, the oddest things; Might as well Try to tell What a birdie sings.
Who is the Queen of Baby-Land? Mother kind and sweet; And her love, Born above, Guides the little feet.
GEORGE COOPER
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Old Mother Hubbard,