On Christmas eve I turned the spit
N Christmas eve I turned the spit,
I burnt my fingers, I feel it yet;
The cock sparrow flew over the table,
The pot began to play with the ladle;
The ladle stood up like a naked man,
And vowed he'd fight the frying-pan;
The frying-pan behind the door
Said he never saw the like before;
And the kitchen clock I was going to wind,
Said he never saw the like behind.
Multiplication is vexation
Multiplication is vexation,
Division is just as bad;
The Rule of Three perplexes me,
And Practice drives me mad.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth, Eliza, Betsy, and Bess,
Went over the water to rob a bird's nest,
They found a nest with five eggs in it,
They each took one, and left four in it.