The north wind doth blow
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor Robin do then?
Poor thing!
He'll sit in a barn,
And to keep himself warm,
Will hide his head under his wing.
Poor thing!
Bless you, burny-bee
Bless you, bless you, burny-bee:
Say when will your wedding be?
If it be to-morrow day,
Take your wings and fly away.
The rose is red
The rose is red, the violet blue,
The gilly-flower sweet, and so are you
These are the words you bade me say
For a pair of new gloves on Easter-day.
Simple Simon met a pieman