There comes the big flea:
He has a little boy on his back,
And a little girl in his ear.
"Don't you hear the bird sing?
Don't you hear it say,
In the wood, out of the wood,
Sweetheart, where dost thou stay?
"Don't you run over my meadow,
And don't you run over my corn,
Or I'll give you the awfullest waling,