WHO comes here?
"A grenadier."
"What do you want?"
"A pot of beer."
"Where is your money?"
"I've forgot."
"Get you gone,
You drunken sot!"
TO market, to market, to buy a plum-cake;
Back again, back again, baby is late;
To market, to market, to buy a plum-bun,
Back again, back again, market is done.
BLOW, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot in the morn.
A MAN went a hunting at Reigate,
And wished to leap over a high gate;
Says the owner, "Go round,
With your gun and your hound,
For you never shall leap over my gate."
THERE was a little nobby colt,
His name was Nobby Gray;
His head was made of pouce straw,
His tail was made of hay.
He could ramble, he could trot,
He could carry a mustard-pot,
Round the town of Woodstock,
Hey, Jenny, hey!
