I sent a letter to my love,
I carried water in my glove,
I dript it, I dropped it, and by the way I lost it.
—Hersham, Surrey (Folk-lore Record, v. 87).
I have a pigeon in my pocket,
If I have not lost it;
Peeps in, peeps out,
By the way I’ve lost it;
Drip, drop,
By the way I’ve lost it.
—Earls Heaton (H. Hardy).
I have a pigeon in my pocket,
It peeps out and in,
And every time that I go round
I give it a drop of gin.
Drip it, drop it, drip it, drop it.
—Settle, Yorkshire (Rev W. S. Sykes).