Who pulled her out?—
Big John Strout.
What a naughty boy was that
To drown poor pussy-cat,
Who never did him any harm,
But kill'd the mice in his father's barn.
When I was a bachelor
I lived by myself;
And all the bread and cheese I got
I put upon the shelf.
The rats and the mice
They made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London
To buy me a wife.
The streets were so bad,
And the lanes were so narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home
In a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke,
And my wife had a fall,
Down came wheelbarrow,
Little wife and all.
I had a little husband,
No bigger than my thumb;
I put him in a pint-pot,
And there I bade him drum.
I bought a little horse,
That galloped up and down;
I bridled him, and saddled him,
And sent him out of town.