Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Backwards and forwards, round and round; Dance, little baby, and mother will sing, With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding! A farmer went trotting A raven cried "Croak"; And they all tumbled down; The mischievous raven And vowed he would serve them The same the next day; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! Hey, my kitten, my kitten, And hey, my kitten, my deary! Was neither far nor neary. Here we go up, up, up, And here we go down, down, downy; And here we go backwards and forwards, And here we go round, round, roundy. Hey diddle, dinkety, poppety, pet, Rhymes About a Little Woman This is the way the ladies ride- This is the way the gentlemen ride— This is the way the grandmothers ride- This is the way the babykins ride- This is the way when they are late, William Canton. Every evening Baby goes Trot, trot, to town Across the river, through the fields, Up hill and down. Trot, trot, the Baby goes, To buy a feather for her hat, Trot, trot, the Baby goes; "You cannot have our feathers, dear," They say; 66 so please trot back." Trot, trot, the Baby goes; The lambs come bleating near. "You cannot have our wool," they say; "But we are sorry, dear." Trot, trot, the Baby goes, Trot, trot, to town. She buys a red rose for her hat, She buys a cotton gown. Mary F. Butts. |