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RIDE a cockhorse to Banbury Cross,
To see an old woman get up on her horse ;
Rings on her fingers, and bells at her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.

RIDING EXERCISE.

HERE goes my lord,
A trot! a trot ! a trot! a trot!

Here goes my lady,
A canter !! a canter !! a canter !! a canter !!

Here goes my young master,
Jockey-hitch !!! jockey-hitch !!! jockey-hitch !!!

jockey-hitch !!! Here comes my young miss, An amble !!! an amble !!! an amble !!! an amble.!!!

The footman lags behind to tipple ale and wine, And goes gallop !!! a gallop!!! a gallop !!! to

make up his time!

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SEE SAW.
SEE saw, sacradown,
Which is the way to London town?
One foot up, and one foot down,
That is the way to London town.

LADY WIND.

63

LADY WIND.

My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind,
Went round about the house to find

A chink to put her foot in;
She tried the keyhole in the door,
She tried the crevice in the floor,

And drove the chimney soot in.

And then one night, when it was dark,
She blew up such a tiny spark,

That all the house was pothered ;
From it she raised up such a flame, ,
As flamed away to Belting Lane,

And White Cross folks were smothered.

And thus when once, my little dears,
A whisper reaches itching ears,

The same will come, you'll find ;
Take my advice, restrain the tongue,
Remember what old nurse has sung

Of busy Lady Wind !

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Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye,
Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing :
And was not that a dainty dish to set before the

king ? The king was in the parlour, counting o'er his

money ; The queen was in the kitchen, eating bread and

honey; The maid was in the garden, laying out the clothes, Up came a blackbird and bit off her nose.

The Dove,

65

THE

DOVE.

BY JOHN KEATS.

I HAD a dove, and the sweet dove died !
And I have thought it died of grieving :
Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied
With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving.
Sweet little red feet! why should you die-
Why would you leave me, sweet bird ! why?
You lived alone in the forest tree;
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
I kissed you oft, and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees ?

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