[133]
TOM THE PIPER'S SON
Tom he was a piper's son,
He learned to play when he was young,
But all the tunes that he could play,
Was "Over the hills and far away";
Over the hills, and a great way off,
And the wind will blow my top-knot off.
Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleased both the girls and boys,
And they stopped to hear him play,
"Over the hills and far away."
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,
That those who heard him could never keep still;
Whenever they heard him they began to dance,
Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.
As Dolly was milking her cow one day,
Tom took out his pipe and began to play;
So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round,"
Till the pail was broke and the milk ran on the ground.
He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs,
He used his pipes and she used her legs;
She danced about till the eggs were all broke,
She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke.
He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass,
Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass;
He took out his pipe and played them a tune,
And the jackass's load was lightened full soon.
[134]
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY
When I was a little boy,
I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got,
I put upon my shelf.
The rats and the mice,
They made such a strife,
I had to go to London
To buy me a wife.
The streets were so broad,
And the lanes were so narrow,
I had to bring my wife home
On a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke,
And my wife had a fall;
Down tumbled wheelbarrow,
Little wife and all.
[135]
THE BABES IN THE WOOD
My dear, you must know that a long time ago,
Two poor little children whose names I don't know,
Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,
And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.
Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!
So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood.
And when it was night, so sad was their plight,
The sun it went down, and the stars gave no light.
They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried,
And the poor little things they lay down and died.
And when they were dead, the robins so red,
Brought strawberry leaves, and over them spread.
And all the day long, the branches among,
They sang to them softly, and this was their song:
Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!
So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood.