Buy fine Flounders! Fine Dabs! All alive, O!
Fine Dabs! Fine live Flounders, O!

Buy Fine Flounders! Fine Dabs!

There goes a tall fish-woman sounding her cry,
“Who’ll buy my fine flounders, and dabs, who’ll buy?”
Poor flounder, he heaves up his fin with a sigh,
And thinks that he has most occasion to cry;
“Ah, neighbour,” says dab, “indeed, so do I.”

Buy my nice and new Banbury Cakes!
Buy my nice new Banbury Cakes, O!

Banbury Cakes.

Buy Banbury Cakes! By fortune’s frown,
You see this needy man,
Along the street, and up and down,
Is selling all he can.