To be sung in a high wind. [Arthur O’Bower has broken his band,] And he comes roaring up the land, King of Scots with all his power Never can turn Sir Arthur O’Bower.
[Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree top,] When the wind blows the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Down tumble cradle and baby and all.

[Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,]

With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,

And her white blossoms are peeping around.

[There was an old woman, and what do you think?] She liv’d upon nothing — but victuals and drink: Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet, And yet this old lady scarce ever was quiet.

[The rose is red, the violet blue,]