If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper,
Where's the peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked?
MATTHEW, Mark, Luke, and John,
Guard the bed that I lay on!
Four corners to my bed,
Four angels round my head;
One to watch, one to pray,
And two to bear my soul away!
COME, butter, come,
Come, butter, come!
Peter stands at the gate,
Waiting for a butter'd cake;
Come, butter, come!
BYE, baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a hunting,
To get a little hare's skin
To wrap a baby bunting in.
HUSHY baby, my doll, I pray you don't cry,
And I'll give you some bread and some milk by-and-by;
Or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart,—
Then to either you're welcome, with all my whole heart.
