Part 10 (1/2)

There was an old woman tossed in a basket, Seventeen times as high as the moon; But where she was going no mortal could tell, For under her arm she carried a broom.

”Old woman, old woman, old woman,” said I, ”Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?”

”To sweep the cobwebs from the sky; And I'll be with you by-and-by.”

THE FIRST OF MAY

The fair maid who, the first of May, Goes to the fields at break of day, And washes in dew from the hawthorn-tree, Will ever after handsome be.

SULKY SUE

Here's Sulky Sue, What shall we do?

Turn her face to the wall Till she comes to.

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the c.o.c.k that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing the corn, That kept the c.o.c.k that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.

SAt.u.r.dAY, SUNDAY

On Sat.u.r.day night Shall be all my care To powder my locks And curl my hair.

On Sunday morning My love will come in.

When he will marry me With a gold ring.

LITTLE JENNY WREN