| BUTTERFLY, butterfly, whence do you come? |
| I know not, I ask not, I never had home. |
| Butterfly, butterfly, where do you go? |
| Where the sun shines, and where the buds grow. |
| "ROBERT Barnes, fellow fine, |
| Can you shoe this horse of mine?" |
| "Yes, good sir, that I can, |
| As well as any other man: |
| Here a nail, and there a prod, |
| And now, good sir, your horse is shod." |
| TOMMY Trot, a man of laws, |
| Sold his bed and lay upon straws; |
| Sold the straw, and slept on grass, |
| To buy his wife a looking-glass. |
| HICKETY, pickety, my black hen, |
| She lays good eggs for gentlemen; |
| Gentlemen come every day, |
| To see what my black hen doth lay. |
| ONE for the money, Two for the show, Three to make ready, And four to go. THERE'S a neat little clock, In the schoolroom it stands, And it points to the time With its two little hands. And may we, like the clock, Keep a face clean and bright, With hands ever ready To do what is right. |
| JACK Spratt could eat no fat, |
| His wife could eat no lean, |
| And so, betwixt them both, you see, |
| They licked the platter clean. |
| MORAL: |
| Better to go to bed supperless than to rise in debt. |