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HE north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,

And what will poor Robin do

then?

Poor thing!

He'll sit in a barn,

And keep himself warm,

And hide his head under his

wing.

Poor thing!

[graphic]

HE queen of hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer's day;
The knave of hearts
He stole those tarts,
And with them ran away:

The king of hearts

Called for those tarts,

And beat the knave full sore;
The knave of hearts

Brought back those tarts,
And said he'd ne'er steal more.
The king of spades

He kissed the maids, Which vexed the queen full sore; The queen of spades

She beat those maids,

And turned them out of door;

The knave of spades

Grieved for those jades,
And did for them implore;
The queen so gent
She did relent,

And said she'd strike no more.

The king of clubs

He often drubs

His loving queen and wife;
The queen of clubs

Returns him snubs,

And all is noise and strife:

The knave of clubs Gives winks and rubs, And swears he'll take her part; For when our kings

Will do such things,

They should be made to smart.

The diamond king

I fain would sing,
And likewise his fair queen,
But that the knave,
A haughty slave,

Must needs step in between.

66

Good diamond king,
With hempen string

This haughty knave destroy,

Then may your queen, With mind serene, Your royal love enjoy."

HERE was a little boy went into a barn,

And lay down on some hay; An owl came out and flew about, And the little boy ran away.

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HERE was a little guinea-pig, Who being little was not big; He always walked upon his feet, And never fasted when he ate. When from a place he ran away, He never at that place did stay; And while he ran, as I am told, He ne'er stood still for young or old.

He often squeaked, and sometimes violent, [silent; And when he squeaked he ne'er was Though ne'er instructed by a cat, He knew a mouse was not a rat.

One day, as I am certified,
He took a whim and fairly died;
And, as I'm told by men of sense,
He never has been living since.

HERE was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of

lead, lead, lead;

He went to the brook

And saw a little duck,

And he shot it through the head, head, head.

He carried it home

To his old wife Joan,

And bid her a fire for to make, make, make;

To roast the little duck,

He had shot in the brook,

And he'd go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake.

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