Volume I Part 7 (1/2)

There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead; He shot Johnny Sprig Through the middle of his wig, And knocked it right off his head, head, head.

There was an old woman, and what do you think?

She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink: Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet: Yet this little old woman could never be quiet.

She went to a baker to buy her some bread, And when she came home, her husband was dead; She went to the clerk to toll the bell, And when she came back her husband was well.

If I had as much money as I could spend, I never would cry old chairs to mend; Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend; I never would cry old chairs to mend.

If I had as much money as I could tell, I never would cry old clothes to sell; Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell; I never would cry old clothes to sell.

One misty, moisty morning, When cloudy was the weather, I met a little old man Clothed all in leather; He began to bow and sc.r.a.pe, And I began to grin,-- How do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again?

If all the world were apple-pie, And all the sea were ink, And all the trees were bread and cheese, What should we have to drink?

Pease-pudding hot, Pease-pudding cold, Pease-pudding in the pot, Nine days old.

Some like it hot, Some like it cold, Some like it in the pot, Nine days old.

Hey, diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Little Jack Horner sat in the corner Eating a Christmas pie; He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum, And said, ”What a good boy am I!”

Little Miss m.u.f.fet, Sat on a tuffet, Eating of curds and whey; There came a great spider That sat down beside her, And frightened Miss m.u.f.fet away.

There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile.

He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile: He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

Little Polly Flinders, Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty little toes; Her mother came and caught her, And whipped her little daughter For spoiling her nice new clothes.

Barber, barber, shave a pig, How many hairs will make a wig?

”Four-and-twenty, that's enough.”