Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John,
Went to bed with his breeches on,
One stocking off, and one stocking on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John.




High diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed
To see such craft,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.




The two gray kits,
And the gray kits' mother,
All went over
The bridge together.
The bridge broke down,
They all fell in;
"May the rats go with you,"
Says Tom Bolin.



Robin and Richard
Were two pretty men;
They stayed in bed
Till the clock struck ten.
Then up starts Robin
And looks at the sky:
"Oh, brother Richard,
The sun's very high.
You go before
With the bottle and bag,
And I will come after
On little Jack nag."



Is John Smith within?—Yes, that he is.
Can he set a shoe? Ay, marry, two.
Here a nail and there a nail,
Tick—tack—too.