Bye, baby bunting,
Father’s gone a-hunting,
Mother’s gone a-milking,
Sister’s gone a-silking,
And brother’s gone to buy a skin
To wrap the baby bunting in.

TOM, TOM, THE PIPER’S SON

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,
Stole a pig, and away he run,
  The pig was eat,
  And Tom was beat,
And Tom ran crying down the street.

COMICAL FOLK

    In a cottage in Fife
    Lived a man and his wife
Who, believe me, were comical folk;
    For, to people’s surprise,
    They both saw with their eyes,
And their tongues moved whenever they spoke!

    When they were asleep,
    I’m told, that to keep
Their eyes open they could not contrive;
    They both walked on their feet,
    And ’twas thought what they eat
Helped, with drinking, to keep them alive!

COCK-CROW

Cocks crow in the morn
    To tell us to rise,
And he who lies late
    Will never be wise;

For early to bed
    And early to rise,
Is the way to be healthy
    And wealthy and wise.

TOMMY SNOOKS

As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks
  Were walking out one Sunday,
Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,
  “Wilt marry me on Monday?”

THE THREE SONS

There was an old woman had three sons,
Jerry and James and John,
Jerry was hanged, James was drowned,
John was lost and never was found;
And there was an end of her three sons,
Jerry and James and John!

THE BLACKSMITH

“Robert Barnes, my fellow fine,
Can you shoe this horse of mine?”
“Yes, good sir, that I can,
As well as any other man;
There’s a nail, and there’s a prod,
Now, good sir, your horse is shod.”

TWO GRAY KITS

  The two gray kits,
And the gray kits’ mother,
  All went over
The bridge together.

The bridge broke down,
  They all fell in;
“May the rats go with you,”
  Says Tom Bolin.

ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE

One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Knock at the door;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A good, fat hen;
Eleven, twelve,
Dig and delve;
Thirteen, fourteen,
Maids a-courting;
Fifteen, sixteen,
Maids in the kitchen;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Maids a-waiting;
Nineteen, twenty,
My plate’s empty.

COCK-A-DOODLE-DO!

Cock-a-doodle-do! 
My dame has lost her shoe,
My master’s lost his fiddle-stick
And knows not what to do.