BLUE BELL BOY

I had a little boy,
  And called him Blue Bell;
Gave him a little work,—­
  He did it very well.

I bade him go upstairs
  To bring me a gold pin;
In coal scuttle fell he,
  Up to his little chin.

He went to the garden
  To pick a little sage;
He tumbled on his nose,
  And fell into a rage.

He went to the cellar
  To draw a little beer;
And quickly did return
  To say there was none there.

WHY MAY NOT I LOVE JOHNNY?

Johnny shall have a new bonnet,
  And Johnny shall go to the fair,
And Johnny shall have a blue ribbon
  To tie up his bonny brown hair.

And why may not I love Johnny? 
  And why may not Johnny love me? 
And why may not I love Johnny
  As well as another body?

And here’s a leg for a stocking,
  And here’s a foot for a shoe,
And he has a kiss for his daddy,
  And two for his mammy, I trow.

And why may not I love Johnny? 
  And why may not Johnny love me? 
And why may not I love Johnny
  As well as another body?

JACK JELF

    Little Jack Jelf
    Was put on the shelf
Because he could not spell “pie”;
    When his aunt, Mrs. Grace,
    Saw his sorrowful face,
She could not help saying, “Oh, fie!”

    And since Master Jelf
    Was put on the shelf
Because he could not spell “pie,”
    Let him stand there so grim,
    And no more about him,
For I wish him a very good-bye!

JACK SPRAT

    Jack Sprat
    Could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean;
    And so,
    Betwixt them both,
They licked the platter clean.

HUSH-A-BYE

  Hush-a-bye, baby,
    Daddy is near;
Mamma is a lady,
  And that’s very clear.

DAFFODILS

Daffy-down-dilly has come to town
In a yellow petticoat and a green gown.

THE GIRL IN THE LANE

The girl in the lane, that couldn’t speak plain,
  Cried, “Gobble, gobble, gobble”: 
The man on the hill that couldn’t stand still,
  Went hobble hobble, hobble.

HUSH-A-BYE

Hush-a-bye, baby, lie still with thy daddy,
  Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
To get some meal to bake a cake,
  So pray, my dear baby, lie still.

NANCY DAWSON

Nancy Dawson was so fine
She wouldn’t get up to serve the swine;
She lies in bed till eight or nine,
So it’s Oh, poor Nancy Dawson.

And do ye ken Nancy Dawson, honey? 
The wife who sells the barley, honey? 
She won’t get up to feed her swine,
And do ye ken Nancy Dawson, honey?