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ING a song of sixpence,

A bag full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbird

Baked in a pie.
When the pie was open'd,

The birds began to sing ;
Was not that a dainty dish

To set before the king ?
The king was in his counting-house,

Counting out his money ;
The queen was in the parlour,

Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes;
By came a little bird,

And snapp'd off her nose.

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OCK-A-BYE, baby, thy cradle is green;

Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring ;
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.


THE girl in the lane, that could n't speak plain,

Cried, gobble, gobble, gobble;
The man on the hill, that could n't stand still,

Went hobble, hobble, hobble.


ERE'S a poor widow from Babylon,

With six poor children all alone ;
One can bake, and one can brew,
One can shape, and one can sew,
One can sit at the fire and spin,
One can bake a cake for the king :
Come choose you east, come choose you west,
Come choose the one that you love best.

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