There was an old woman, she liv'd in a shoe,
She had so many children she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
She whipt them all soundly and put them to bed.

Heigh ding a ding, what shall I sing ?
How many holes in a skimmer ?
Four and twenty. I'm half starving!
Mother, pray give me some dinner.

Hey rub-a-dub, ho rub-a-dub, three maids in a tub,

And who do you think was there?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker,

And all of them gone to the fair.

To be sung in a high wind.
Arthur O’Bower has broken his band,
And he comes roaring up the land,
King of Scots with all his power
Never can turn Sir Arthur O’Bower.

Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
Down tumble cradle and baby and all.

Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town, With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown, And her white blossoms are peeping around.

There was an old woman, and what do you think?
She liv'd upon nothing—but victuals and drink:
Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,
And yet this old lady scarce ever was quiet.

The rose is red, the violet blue,
The gillyflower sweet—and so are you.
These are the words you bade me say
For a pair of new gloves on Easter-day.

The little black dog ran round the house,

And set the bull a roaring,
And drove the monkey in the boat,

Who set the oars a rowing,
And scared the cock upon the rock,

Who cracked his throat with crowing.