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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?


The man in the moon

Came tumbling down,
And asked his way to Norwich.

He went by the south,

And burnt his mouth With supping cold pease-porridge.

There was an old woman

Lived under a hill,
She put a mouse in a bag,

And sent it to mill;
The miller did swear

By the point of his knife, He never took toll

Of a mouse in his life.


Little Jack Homer sat in the corner,

Eating a Christmas pie: He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,

And said, "What a good boy am I!"

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
February has twenty-eight alone,
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting leap-year, that's the time
When February's days are twenty-nine.

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Sweep, sweep,

Chimney sweep,
From the bottom to the top,

Sweep all up,

Chimney sweep,
From the bottom to the top.

Climb by rope,

Or climb by ladder,
Without either

Fll climb farther.

Shake a leg, wag a leg, when will you gang? At midsummer, mother, when the days are lang.

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