Tom married a wife on Monday,
He got a stick on Tuesday,
He beat her well on Wednesday,
Sick was she on Thursday,
Dead was she on Friday,
Glad was Tom on Saturday,
To bury his wife on Sunday.
Little Goody Tidy
Was born on a Friday,
Was christened on a Saturday,
Ate roast beef on Sunday,
Was very well on Monday,
Was taken ill on Tuesday,
Sent for the doctor on Wednesday,
Died on Thursday.
So there’s an end to little Goody Tidy.
Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,
With silver buckles at his knee,
When he comes home he’ll marry me,
Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair;
He’s my love for evermore,
Pretty Bobby Shaft!
A good child, a good child,
As I suppose you be,
Never laughed nor smiled
At the tickling of your knee.