THERE was an old woman of Norwich,
Who lived upon nothing but porridge;
Parading the town,

She turned cloak into gown,

This thrifty old woman of Norwich.

I HAD a little hobby-horse, and it was well shod,
It carried me to the mill-door, trod, trod, trod;
When I got there I gave a great shout,

Down came the hobby-horse, and I cried out.
Fie upon the miller, he was a great beast,

He would not come to my house, I made a little

feast;

I had but a little, but I would give him some,

For playing of his bag-pipes and beating his drum.

RIDE a cock-horse to Coventry-cross
To see what Emma can buy;

A penny white cake I'll buy for her sake,
And a twopenny tart or a pie.

MULTIPLICATION is vexation,
Division is as bad;

The Rule of Three doth puzzle me,
And Practice drives me mad.

THERE was an owl lived in an oak,

Wisky, wasky, weedle;

And every word he ever spoke

Was fiddle, faddle, feedle.

A

gunner

chanced to come that way,

Wisky, wasky, weedle;

Says he, "I'll shoot you, silly bird," Fiddle, faddle, feedle.

DEEDLE, deedle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his breeches on;
One shoe off, the other shoe on,
Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John.

A cow and a calf,
An ox and a half,

Forty good shillings and three;
Is that not enough tocher
For a shoemaker's daughter,
A bonny lass with a black e'e?