And I'll give you some bread and some milk by and bye;
Or, perhaps you like custard, or may-be a tart,—
Then to either you're welcome, with all my whole heart.
CCCLXXXI.
Dance, little baby, dance up high,
Never mind, baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There, little baby, there you go;
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground.