A Book of Nursery Rhymes/Part IV

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A Book of Nursery Rhymes by Charles Welsh
Days and Nights, Weeks and Months and Years, Time and the Weather, etc.






They that wash on Monday
Have all the week to dry;
They that wash on Tuesday
Are not so much awry;
They that wash on Wednesday
Are not so much to blame;
They that wash on Thursday,
Wash for very shame;
They that wash on Friday,
Must only wash in need;
And they that wash on Saturday,
Are lazy folks indeed.

How many days has my baby to play?
Saturday, Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

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A Diller, a dollar,
A ten o'clock scholar,
What makes you come so
You used to come at ten o'clock,
And now you come at noon.

He that would thrive
Must rise at five;

He that hath thriven
May lie till seven ;
And he that by the plough would thrive;
Himself must either hold or drive.

Cock crows in the morn,
To tell us to rise,
And he who lies late
Will never be wise.
For early to bed,
And early to rise,
Is the way to be healthy
And wealthy and wise.

Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday.
Buried on Sunday,
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy!

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Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
And a child that's born on Christmas Day
Is fair and wise, good and gay.

If you sneeze on Monday, you sneeze for
Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger;
Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter;
Sneeze on a Thursday, something better;
Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow;
Sneeze on a Saturday, joy to-morrow.

As John and Jane
Walked through the lane,
One very pleasant Sunday,
Said John to Jane,
"Unless it rain,
To-morrow will be Monday"

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Has come up to town
In a yellow petticoat
And a green gown.

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MARCH winds and April showers
Bring forth May flowers.

In April's sweet month,
When leaves begin to spring,
Little lambs skip like fairies,
And birds build and sing.

A sunshiny shower,
Won't last half an hour.

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
February has twenty-eight alone,
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting Leap-year, that's the time
When February's days are twenty-nine.

The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And washes in dew from the hawthorn-tree,
Will ever after handsome be.

"Shake a leg, wag a leg, when will you
"At midsummer, mother, when the days
are lang."

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"Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you
 I will go with you, if that I may."
I'm going to the meadow to see them
 I'm going to help them to make the hay."

A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly.

Bounce Buckram, velvet's dear;
Christmas comes but once a year.

Sing, song, the days are long,
The woodcock and the sparrow;
The little dog has burnt his tail,
And he shall be whipped to-morrow

Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day,
Little Charlie wants to play.

As the days grow longer
The storms grow stronger.

When the days begin to lengthen
Then the cold begins to strengthen

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"What's the news of the day,
Good neighbor, I pray?"

"They say the balloon
Is gone up to the moon!"

Blow, wind, blow! and
go, mill, go!
That the miller may
grind his corn;
That the baker may take
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot
in the morn.

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Evening red and morning gray
Sets the traveller on his way.

When the wind is in the east,
'T is good for neither man nor beast;
When the wind is in the north,
The skilful fisher goes not forth;
When the wind is in the south,
It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth.
When the wind is in the west,
Then't is at the very best.

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One misty, moisty morning
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man
Clothed all in leather;
Clothed all in leather,
With cap under his chin,—
How do you do, and how do you do,
And how do you do again?

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Bring the hoop, and bring the ball,
Come with happy faces all;
Let us make a merry ring,
Talk and laugh, and dance and sing
Quickly, quickly, come away,
For it is a pleasant day.

Rainbow at night
Is the sailor's delight;
Rainbow in the morning,
Sailors, take warning.

Arthur O'Bower has broken his band,
And he comes roaring up the land;
King of Scots with all his power,
Cannot turn Arthur of the Bower.