Childhoods Favorites and Fairy Stories | Page 8

The sun it went down,
And the moon gave no light! They sobbed and they sighed, and they
bitterly cried And the poor little things, they lay down and died.
And when they were dead, The robins so red, Brought
strawberry-leaves And over them spread; And all the day long, They
sung them this song: "Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood!
Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?"
* * * * *
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts All on a summer's day; The
Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.
The King of Hearts called for the tarts, And beat the Knave full sore;
The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no
more.
* * * * *
I had a little husband, No bigger than my thumb; I put him in a pint-pot,
And there I bade him drum.
I bought a little horse, That galloped up and down; I bridled him, and
saddled And sent him out of town.
I gave him little garters, To garter up his hose, And a little handkerchief,
To wipe his little nose.
* * * * *

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.
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
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!
* * * * *
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!
* * * * *
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
* * * * *
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