THERE was a little man, and he had a little gun,
And his bullets they were made of lead, lead, lead.
He shot Johnny Sprig through the middle of his wig,
And knocked it right off his head, head, head.
A MEDLEY
ON Christmas Eve I turned the spit,
I burnt my fingers, I feel it yet;
The cock sparrow flew over the table,
The pot began to play with the ladle;
The ladle stood up like a naked man,
And vowed he'd fight the frying-pan;
The frying-pan behind the door
Said he never saw the like before;
And the kitchen clock I was going to wind
Said he never saw the like behind.
THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM
