This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Trim, trim, trim.
Presently come the country-folks,
Hobbledy gee, hobbledy gee.
| [One,] Two, Three, Four, Five, I caught a hare alive. | Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, I let it go again. |
| [Cock a doodle doo,] My dame has lost her shoe; My master’s lost his fiddlestick, And knows not what to do. |
| [Tom, Tom, of Islington,] Married a wife on Sunday, Bro’t her home on Monday, Hired a house on Tuesday, Fed her well on Wednesday, Sick was she on Thursday, Dead was she on Friday, Sad was Tom on Saturday, To bury his wife on Sunday. |
| [I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb,] I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum; I bought a little handkerchief to wipe his little nose, And a pair of little garters to tie his little hose. |