Page 6—Children's Rhymes

Children's Rhymes
1. This pig went to market:
2. This pig stayed at home:
3. This pig had meat:
4. This pig had none:
5. And this pig cried, "Wee, wee," all the way home.
Game of Child's Features
Here sits the Lord Mayor! (forehead)
Here sits 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)
Face Game
Ring the bell! (giving its hair a pull)
Knock at the door! (tapping its forehead)
Draw the latch! (pulling up it's nose)
And walk in! (putting finger in mouth)
Face Game
(Eye) Bo Peeper! (Nose) Nose dreeper!
(Chin) Chinchopper!
(Teeth) White Lopper!
(Mouth) little gap! (Tongue) and red rag!
Game on the Toes
1. Let us go to the wood, says this pig;
2. What to do there? says that pig;
3. Too look for my mother, says this pig;
4. What to do with her? says that pig;
5. Kiss her to death, says this pig.
Going to Market
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, joggety-jog.
Baby Riding
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 grand-mother,
To see her grandmother.
Ride a Cock-Horse
Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
And a two-penny apple pie.
Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross,
To see a young lady on a white horse,
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.
Baby Riding
This is the way the ladies ride;
Tre, tre, tree,
This is the way the ladies ride;
Tre, tre, tree.
This is the way the gentlemen ride;
Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the gentlemen ride;
Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the farmers ride;
Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy!
This is the way the farmers ride;
Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy!
Clap Hands
Clap hands, clap hands,
Till father comes home;
For father's got money,
But mother's got none.
When Dad Comes Home
You shall have an apple,
You shall have a plum,
You shall have a rattle,
When your dad comes home.
Pat-A-Cake
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
So I will, 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.
Come, Butter, Come
Churn, butter, churn! come, butter, come!
Peter stands at the gate,
Waiting for a butter cake;
Come, butter, come!
Baby Crying
When Jacky's a very good boy,
He shall have cakes and a custard;
But when he does nothing but cry,
He shall have nothing but mustard.

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