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CCCCII.

KING'S SUTTON is a pretty town,
And lies all in a valley;
There is a pretty ring of bells,
Besides a bowling-alley :
Wine and liquor in good store,
Pretty maidens plenty;

Can a man desire more?

There ain't such a town in twenty.

CCCCIII.

THE little priest of Felton,

The little priest of Felton,

He kill'd a mouse within his house,

And ne'er a one to help him.

CCCCIV.

[The following verses are said by Aubrey to have been in his time sung by the girls of Oxfordshire in a sport called Leap Candle, which is now obsolete. See Thoms's Anecdotes and Traditions,' p. 96.]

THE tailor of Bicester,

He has but one eye;

He cannot cut a pair of green galagaskins,
If he were to try.

CCCCV.

DICK and Tom, Will and John,
Brought me from Nottingham.

CCCCVI.

DRIDDLETY drum, driddlety drum,
There you see the beggars are come;
Some are here and some are there,
And some are gone to Chidley fair.

CCCCVII.

My father and mother

My uncle and aunt,
Be all gone to Norton,

But little Jack and I.

A little bit of powdered beef,
And a great net of cabbage,

The best meal I have had to day
Is a good bowl of porridge.

CCCCVIII.

I LOST my mare in Lincoln lane,
And couldn't tell where to find her,
Till she came home both lame and blind,
With never a tail behind her.

CCCCIX.

CRIPPLE Dick upon a stick,

And Sandy on a sow,
Riding away to Galloway,
To buy a pound o'woo.

ссссх.

AT Brill on the Hill,

The wind blows shrill,

The cook no meat can dress;

At Stow in the Wold

The wind blows cold,

I know no more than this.

CCCCXI.

A MAN went a hunting at Reigate,
And wished to leap over a high gate;
Says the owner, "Go round,

With your gun and your hound,

For you never shall leap over my gate."

RA

PS

EIGHTEENTH CLASS-RELICS.

CCCCXII.

THE girl in the lane, that couldn't speak plain, Cried, "gobble, gobble, gobble:"

The man on the hill, that couldn't stand still, Went hobble, hobble, hobble.

CCCCXIII.

Goosy goosy gander,

Who stands yonder?

Little Betsy Baker ;

Take her up, and shake her.

CCCCXIV.

GOOSEY goosey gander,

Where shall I wander? Up stairs, down stairs,

And in my lady's chamber; There I met an old man

That would not say his prayers;

I took him by the left leg,
And threw him down stairs.

CCCCXV.

BABY and I

Were baked in a pie,
The gravy was wonderful hot :
We had nothing to pay

To the baker that day,

And so we crept out of the pot.

CCCCXVI.

WHAT are little boys made of, made of,
What are little boys made of?

Snaps and snails, and puppy-dog's tails;

And that's what little boys are made of, made of. What are little girls made of, 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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