Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

W

HEN Arthur first in court began

To wear long hanging sleeves,

He entertain'd three serving-men;
And all of them were thieves.

The first he was an Irishman,
The second was a Scot;
The third he was a Welshman;
And all were knaves, I wot.

The Irishman loved usquebaugh,
The Scot loved ale call'd bluecap,
The Welshman he loved toasted cheese,
And made his mouth like a mouse-trap.

Usquebaugh burnt the Irishman;

The Scot was drown'd in ale;

The Welshman had like to be choked by a

mouse,

But he pull❜d it out by the tail.

12

[graphic]
[blocks in formation]

LITTLE Jack Jelf

Was put on the shelf

Because he would not spell pie;
When his aunt, Mrs. Grace,
Saw his sorrowful face,

She could not help saying, O fie!

And since Master Jelf

Was put on the shelf

Because he would not spell pie,
Let him stand there so grim,
And no more about him,

For I wish him a very good-bye'

[graphic][merged small]

OF all the birds that ever I see,

The owl is the fairest in her degree:

For all the day long she sits in a tree,

And when the night comes, away flies she!

[blocks in formation]

SING

ING a song of sixpence, A bag full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbird Baked in a pie.

When the pie was open'd,

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 parlour,

Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes;

By came a little bird,

And snapp'd off her nose.

[merged small][graphic]
[graphic]

AZY sheep, pray tell me why

LA

In the pleasant fields you lie, Eating grass and daisies white, From the morning until night? Every thing can something do, But what kind of use are you?

Nay, my little master, nay,
Do not serve me so, I pray:
Don't you see the wool that grows
On my back, to make you clothes?
Cold, yes, very cold, you'd be,

If

you had no wool from me.

Then the farmer comes at last, When the merry spring is past, And cuts my woolly coat away, To warm you in the winter's day: Little master, this is why

In the pleasant fields I lie.

« AnteriorContinuar »