CHAPTER XI.
SONGS.
"WILL THE LOVE THAT YOU'RE SO RICH IN."
"There was a little man and he woo'd a little maid,
And he said, 'Little maid, will you wed—wed—wed?
I have little more to say than will you—Yea or Nay?
For the least said is soonest mended—ded—ded—ded.'
"The little maid replied, some say a little sighed,
'But what shall we have for to eat—eat—eat?
Will the love that you're so rich in
Make a fire in the kitchen,
Or the little God of Love turn the spit, spit, spit?'"
"Cock-a-doodle doo, my dame has lost her shoe;
My master's lost his fiddling stick and doesn't know what to do.
Cock-a-doodle doo, what is my dame to do?
Till master finds his fiddling stick she'll dance without her shoe.
"Cock-a-doodle doo, my dame has found her shoe, and master's found his fiddling stick.
Sing doodle, doodle doo—Cock-a-doodle doo,
My dame will dance with you,
While master fiddles his fiddling stick
For dame and doodle doo."
The third-century monarch, King Cole, is seriously libelled in the nursery jingle of—