A Book of Nursery Rhymes/Part I

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A Book of Nursery Rhymes by Charles Welsh
PART I. — MOTHER PLAY

Personal to the child

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Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!

A BOOK OF


NURSERY RHYMES




Part I

PERSONAL TO THE CHILD



MOTHER PLAY



Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
So I do, master, as fast as I can:
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T
Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.




This little pig went to market;
This little pig stayed at home;
This little pig had roast beef;
This little pig had none;
This little pig said, "Wee, wee!
I can't find my way home."

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Brow bender, EYE winker,
Eye peeper, Tom Tinker,
Nose smeller, Nose smeller,
Mouth eater, Mouth eater,
Chin chopper, Chin chopper,
Knock at the door—peep in,  Chin chopper.
Lift up the latch—walk in.




HERE sits the Lord Mayor forehead.
 Here sit his two men eyes
Here sits the cock right cheek.
 Here sits the hen left cheek.
Here sit the little chickens tip of nose.
 Here they run in mouth.
Chinchopper, chinchopper, 
 Chinchopper, chin! chuck the chin.

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Warm, hands, warm, daddy 's gone to plough;
If you want to warm hands, warm hands now.

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[A finger play.]

There were two blackbirds
     Sitting on a hill,
The one was named Jack,
     The other named Jill;
Fly away, Jack!
Fly away, Jill!
Come again, Jack!
Come again, Jill!




Dance, Thumbkin, Dance,
[Keep the thumb in motion.
Dance, ye merrymen, every one;
[All the fingers in motion.
For Thumbkin, he can dance alone,
[The thumb only moving.
Thumbkin, he can dance alone,
[Ditto.
Dance, Foreman, dance,
[The first finger moving.
Dance, ye merrymen, every one;
[The whole moving.
But Foreman, he can dance alone,
Foreman, he can dance alone.


And so on with the others—naming the second finger "Longman." the third finger "Ringman." and the fourth finger "Littleman." Littleman cannot dance alone.

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Bat, bat (clap hands),
Come under my hat,
And I'll give you a slice of bacon;
And when I bake,
I'll give you a cake,
If I am not mistaken.

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Dancy-diddlety-poppity-pin!
Have a new dress when summer comes in;
    When summer goes out,
    'T is all worn out,
Dancy-diddlety-poppity-pin!




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"Is John Smith within?"
    "Yes, that he is."
"Can he set a shoe?"
    "Ay, marry, two;
Here a nail and there a nail,
    Tick, tack, too."

See-saw, Margery Daw,
Jenny shall have a new master;
And she shall have but a penny a day,
Because she can't work any faster.


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Dance, little baby, dance up high,
Never mind, baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There, little baby, there you go;
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!

To market, to market,
   To buy a plum bun;
Home again, come again,
   Market is done.


To market, to market, to buy a plum cake,
Back again, back again, baby is late;
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Back again, back again, market is done.
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, dancing a jig;
Ride to the market to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.


See-saw sacradown,
Which is the way to Boston town?
One foot up, the other foot down,
And that is the way to Boston town.


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.

 Ride, baby, ride,
 Pretty baby shall ride,
And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side,
And a little pussy-cat tied to the other,
And away she shall ride
 To see her grandmother,
 To see her grandmother.
 To see her grandmother,

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Here am I
 Little jumping Joan;
When nobody's with me,
 I'm always alone.

 
 This is the way the ladies ride;
  Tri, tre, tre, tree,
  Tri, tre, tre, tree!
 This is the way the ladies ride,
  Tri, tre, tre, tre, tri-tre-tre-tree!

 This is the way the gentlemen ride;
  Gallop-a-trot!
 This is the way the gentlemen ride,
  Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!

 This is the way the farmers ride;
  Hobbledy-hoy,
  Hobbledy-hoy!
 This is the way the farmers ride,
  Hobbledy hobbledy-hoy!




 Tickle ye, tickle ye in your hand,
 If you laugh you are a man,
 If you cry you are a baby,
 If you dance you are a lady.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see an old lady upon a white horse,
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
She shall have music wherever she goes.


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A good child, a good child,
As I suppose you be,
Never laughed nor smiled
At the tickling of your knee.


What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snaps and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails;
And that's what little boys are made of,
 made of.
What are little girls made of, made of,
 made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and all that's nice;
And that's what little girls are made of,
 made of.




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Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
 How does your garden grow?
With cockle-shells and silver bells
 And pretty girls all of a-row.


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Sugar and spice, and all that's nice.


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Hey ding a ding,
 what shall I sing?
How many holes in
 a skimmer?
Four and twenty,—
 I'm feeling quite
 empty;
Pray, mamma, give
 me some dinner.


Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
 Pease porridge in the
  pot,
 Nine days old.
Some like it hot,
 Some like it cold,
Some like it in the
pot,
 Nine days old.

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Rock-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.


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 Hush thee, my babby,
 Lie still with thy daddy,
Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
 To grind thee some wheat
 To make thee some meat,
And so, my dear babby, lie still.

Bye, baby Bunting,
Daddy's gone a-hunting,
To get a little rabbit's skin,
To wrap his baby Bunting in.


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Diddle, diddle, dumpling,
 My son John
Went to bed
 With his stockings on;
One shoe off,
 The other shoe on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling,
 My son John.





Hush-a-bye, baby,
On the tree-top,
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks
The cradle will fall,
Down will come baby,
Bough, cradle, and all.




Good night,
Sleep tight,
Wake up bright
In the morning light,
To do what's right,
With all your might.

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Ding, dong bell,
Pussy 's in the well!