When good King Arthur ruled his land He was a goodly king; To make a bag-pudding. And stuff'd it well with plums; As big as my two thumbs. And noblemen beside; The queen next morning fried. Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green, See saw, Jack-a-daw, About the bush, Willie, about the bee-hive, We're three brethren out of Spain, Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, And maidens all in a row. |