Ding-dong the castle bells
Bless my poor mother—
Her coffin shall be black,
Six white angels at her back—
Two to watch and two to pray,
And two to carry her soul away.
Not a very cheerful rope-song, you’ll say; but our girls love it; you can’t think how it makes them laugh. They laugh more than the boys, anyhow, over their games—
or
Cold meat, mutton pies,
Tell me when your mother dies.