Pe-ter White
Will ne’er go right,
Would you know the rea-son why?
He fol-lows his nose,
Wher-ever he goes,
And that stands all aw-ry.
See, see. What shall I see?
A horse’s head where his tail should be.
I had a little hen, the prettiest ever seen,
She washed me the dishes, and kept the house clean:
She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,
She brought it home in less than an hour,
She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,
She sat by the fire, and told many a fine tale.