There Was a Little Man
There 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 shot it through the head, head, head.
He carried it home to his old wife Joan,
And bade her a fire to make, make, make;
To roast the little duck he had shot in the brook,
And he’d go and fetch the drake, drake, drake.
Little Bo-Peep
Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can’t tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they’ll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamed she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still a-fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they’d left all their tails behind ‘em.
Girls and Boys
Girls and boys, come out and play,
The moon doth shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street.
Come with a whoop, come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk, and I’ll find flour,
And we’ll make a pudding in half an hour.
The Man in the Moon
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.
Oranges and Lemons
Gay go up and gay go down,
To ring the bells of London town.
Bull’s-eyes and targets,
Say the bells of St. Marg’ret’s.
Brickbats and tiles,
Say the bells of St. Giles’.
Halfpence and farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement’s.
Pancakes and fritters,
Say the bells of St. Peter’s.
Two sticks and an apple,
Say the bells of Whitechapel.
Old Father Baldpate,
Say the slow bells at Aldgate.
Poker and tongs,
Say the bells of St. John’s.
Kettles and pans,
Say the bells of St. Ann’s.
You owe me ten shillings!
Say the bells of St. Helen’s.
When will you pay me?
Say the bells at Old Bailey.
When I grow rich,
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
Pray, when will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.
I am sure I don’t know,
Says the great bell of Bow. Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.
