[Jacky, come
give me your fiddle,]
If ever you mean to thrive.
Nay, I’ll not give my fiddle
To any man alive.
If I should give my fiddle,
They’ll think that I’m gone mad,
For many a joyful day
My fiddle and I have had.
[There was a Piper
had a Cow,]
And he had naught to give her,
He pull’d out his pipes and play’d her a tune,
And bade the cow consider.
The cow considered very well,
And gave the piper a penny,
And bade him play the other tune,
“Corn rigs are bonny.”
[Away, pretty
robin, fly home to your nest,]
To make you my captive I still should like best,
And feed you with worms and with bread:
Your eyes are so sparkling, your feathers so soft,
Your little wings flutter so pretty aloft,
And your breast is all cover’d with red.
[When good King
Arthur ruled his land]
He was a goodly king;
He stole three pecks of barley meal
To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuff’d it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.
The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried.
[Rock-a-bye, baby,
your cradle is green,]
Father’s a nobleman, mother’s a queen,
And Betty’s a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny’s a drummer, and drums for the king.
