When I was a ba-che-lor, I liv-ed by my-self.
And all the meat I got I put upon a shelf;
The rats and the mice did lead me such a life,
That I went to Lon-don, to get my-self a wife.
The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so nar-row,
I could not get my wife home with-out a wheel-bar-row.
The wheel-bar-row broke, my wife got a fall,
Down tum-bled wheel-bar-row, lit-tle wife, and all.
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, jiggety jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety jog.
Jacky, come give me thy fiddle,
If ever thou mean to thrive.
Nay, I’ll not give my fiddle
To any man alive.