There was an old man who lived in a wood,
  As you may plainly see,
He said he could do as much work in a day
  As his wife could do in three.

"With all my heart," the old woman said,
  "If that you will allow;
To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead,
  And I'll go drive the plough.

"But you must milk the Tidy cow,
  For fear she may go dry.
And you must feed the little pigs
  That are within the sty;

"And you must mind the speckled hen,
  For fear she lay away;
And you must reel the spool of yarn
  That I spun yesterday."

The old woman took a whip in her hand,
  And went to drive the plough;
The old man took a pail in his hand,
  And went to milk the cow.

But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched,
  And Tidy broke his nose,
And Tidy gave him such a blow
  That the blood ran down to his toes.

"Hi! Tidy! Ho! Tidy! Hi!
  Tidy! do stand still!
If ever I milk you, Tidy, again,
  'Twill be sore against my will."

He went to feed the little pigs,
  That were within the sty;
He hit his head against the beam
  And he made the blood to fly.

He went to mind the speckled hen,
  For fear she'd lay away;
And he forgot the spool of yarn
  His wife spun yesterday.

So he swore by the sun, the moon, the stars,
  And the green leaves on the tree,
If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life,
  She should never be ruled by he.

John Ball shot them all.
John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Wyming made the priming,
And John Brammer made the rammer,
And John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Block made the stock,
And John Wyming made the priming,
And John Brammer made the rammer,
And John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Crowder made the powder,
And John Block made the stock,
And John Wyming made the priming,
And John Brammer made the rammer,
And John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Puzzle made the muzzle,
And John Crowder made the powder,
And John Block made the stock,
And John Wyming made the priming,
And John Brammer made the rammer,
And John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Clint made the flint,
And John Puzzle made the muzzle,
And John Crowder made the powder,
And John Block made the stock,
And John Wyming made the priming,
And John Brammer made the rammer,
And John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

John Patch made the match,
John Clint made the flint,
John Puzzle made the muzzle,
John Crowder made the powder,
John Block made the stock,
John Wyming made the priming,
John Brammer made the rammer,
John Scott made the shot,
  But John Ball shot them all.

There was an old man, and though 'tis not common,
Yet if he said true, his mother was a woman;
And though it's incredible, yet I've been told
He was a mere infant, but age made him old.
Whene'er he was hungry he wanted some meat,
And if he could get it, 'twas said he could eat;
When thirsty he'd drink, if you gave him a pot,
And his liquor most commonly ran down his throat.
He seldom or never could see without light,
And yet I've been told he could hear in the night.
He has oft been awake in the daytime 'tis said,
And has fall'n fast asleep as he lay in his bed.
'Tis reported his tongue always moved when he talked,
And he stirred both his arms and his legs when he walk'd,
And his gait was so odd, had you seen him you'd burst,
For one leg or t'other would always be first.
His face was the saddest that ever was seen,
For if 'twere not washed it was seldom quite clean;
He showed most his teeth when he happened to grin,
His mouth stood across 'twixt his nose and his chin.
At last he fell sick, as old chronicles tell,
And then, as folk said, he was not very well!
And what is more strange, in so weak a condition,
As he could not give fees, he could get no physician.
What a pity he died; yet 'tis said that his death
Was occasioned at last by the want of his breath.
But peace to his bones, which in ashes now moulder,
Had he lived a day longer he'd been a day older.

There was and old piper who had a cow,
  But he had no hay to give her,
So he took his pipes and played her a tune
  "Consider, old cow, consider."

Poor old John Brown is dead and gone,
  We ne'er shall see him more;
He used to wear an old brown coat,
  All button'd down before.

Three wise men of Gotham,
  Went to sea in a bowl;
If the bowl it had been stronger,
  My song would have been longer.

There was a man and he had nought,
  And robbers came to rob him;
He crept up the chimney pot,
  And then they thought they had him;
But he got down on t'other side,
  And so they could not find him;
He ran fourteen miles in fifteen days,
  And never look'd behind him.

I had a little wife, the prettiest ever seen,
She washed up the dishes, and kept the house clean;
She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,
She brought it home in less than an hour;
She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,
She sat by the fire and told me many a fine tale.

There was a crooked man,
  And he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence,
  Against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat,
  Which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
  In a little crooked house.

When good King Arthur ruled this land,
  He was a goodly King;
He stole three pecks of barley meal,
  To make a bag pudding.
A bag pudding the King did make,
  And stuffed it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
  As big as my two thumbs.
The King and Queen did eat thereof,
  And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night
  The Queen next morning fried.

Barney Bodkin broke his nose,
Without feet we can't have toes,
Crazy folks are always mad,
Want of money makes us sad.

A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden fill of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It's like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
It's like a lion at the door;
And when the door begins to crack,
It's like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
It's like a penknife in your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
You're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.

There was a man and he was mad,
  And he jumped into a pea-pod;
The pea-pod was over-full,
  So he jumped into a roaring bull;
The roaring bull was over-fat,
  So he jumped into a gentleman's hat;
The gentleman's hat was over-fine,
  So he jumped into a bottle of wine;
The bottle of wine was over-dear,
  So he jumped into a bottle of beer;
The bottle of beer was over-thick,
  So he jumped into a club-stick;
The club-stick was over-narrow,
  So he jumped into a wheel-barrow;
The wheel-barrow began to crack,
  So he jumped into a hay-stack;
The hay-stack began to blaze,
  So he did nothing but cough and sneeze.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
  His wife could eat no lean,
And so between them both
  They licked the platter clean.
Jack ate all the lean,
  Joan ate all the fat,
The bone they both picked clean,
  Then gave it to the cat.

When Jack Sprat was young,
  He dressed very smart,
He courted Joan Cole,
  And soon gained her heart;
In his fine leather doublet
  And old greasy hat,
Oh! what a smart fellow
  Was little Jack Sprat.

Joan Cole had a hole
  In her petticoat,
Jack Sprat, to get a patch,
  Gave her a groat.
The groat bought a patch
  Which stopped the hole,
"I thank you, Jack Sprat,"
  Says little Joan Cole.

Jack Sprat was the bridegroom,
  Joan Cole was the bride,
Jack said from the church
  His Joan home should ride.
But no coach could take her,
  The road was so narrow;
Said Jack, "Then I'll take her
  Home in a wheelbarrow."

Jack Sprat was wheeling
  His wife by a ditch,
Then the barrow turned over,
  And in she did pitch.
Says Jack, "She'll be drown'd!"
  But Joan did reply,
"I don't think I shall,
  For the ditch is quite dry."

Jack brought home his Joan,
  And she sat in a chair,
When in came his cat,
  That had got but one ear.
Says Joan "I've come home, Puss,
  Pray how do you do?"
The cat wagg'd her tail
  And said nothing but "mew."

Jack Sprat took his gun,
  And went to the brook;
He shot at the drake,
  But he killed the duck.
He bought it home to Joan,
  Who a fire did make,
To roast the fat duck
  While Jack went for the drake.

The drake was swimming
  With his curly tail,
Jack Sprat came to soot him,
  But happened to fail.
He let off his gun,
  But missing the mark,
The drake flew away
 Crying "Quack, quack, quack."

Jack Sprat to live pretty
  Now bought him a pig,
It was not very little,
  It was not very big;
It was not very lean,
  It was not very fat,
"It will serve for a grunter,"
  Said little Jack Sprat.

Then Joan went to market
  To buy her some fowls,
She bought a jackdaw
  And a couple of owls;
The owls were white,
  The jackdaw was black,
"They'll make a rare breed,"
  Says little Joan Sprat.

Jack Sprat bought a cow,
  His Joan to please,
For Joan could make
  Both butter and cheese;
Or pancakes or puddings
  Without any fat;
A notable housewife
  Was little Joan Sprat.

Joan Sprat went to brewing
  A barrel of ale,
She put in some hops
  That it might not turn stale;
But as for the malt—
  She forgot to put that;
"This is a brave sober liquor."
  Said little Jack Sprat.

Jack Sprat went to market
  And bought him a mare,
She was lame of three legs,
  An as blind as she could stare.
Her ribs they were bare,
  For the mare had no fat;
"She looks like a racer,"
  Said little Jack Sprat.

Jack and Joan went abroad,
  Puss looked after the house;
She caught a large rat,
  And a very small mouse,
She caught a small mouse,
  And a very large rat,
"You're an excellent hunter,"
  Said little Jack Sprat.

Now I've told you the story
  Of little Jack Sprat,
Of sweet Joan Cole
  And the poor one-ear'd cat;
Now Jack he loved Joan,
  And good things he taught her,
Then she gave him a son,
  Then after a daughter.

Now Jack has got rich,
  And has plenty of pelf;
If you know any more
  you may tell it yourself.

There was a cross old man and what do you think,
He lived on nothing but victuals and drink;
Victuals and drink were his principal diet,
Yet this crabbed old man would never be quiet.

He teased a poor monkey, who lived in a cage,
Till the animal got in a terrible rage,
And seized on his nose with finger so strong,
That it stretched it until it was quite a yard long.

The man in the moon came tumbling down,
  And asked his way to Norwich,
He went by the south, and burnt his mouth,
  With supping cold pease-porridge.

There was a man of Newington,
  And he was wondrous wise,
He jump'd into a quickset hedge
  And scratch'd out both his eyes.
But when he saw his eyes were out
  With all his might and main
He jump'd into another hedge.
  And scratched them in again.

Doctor Faustus was a good man,
He whipt his scholars now and then.
When he did he made them dance
Out of Scotland into France;
Out of France into Spain,
And then he whipped them back again.

If all the would was apple pie,
  And all the seas were ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
  What would we have to drink?
It's enough to make an old man
  Scratch his head and think.

Alderman Absolute Always Adjudicated with Astonishing Ability
After he had read some books from Cole's Book Arcade.

Benjamin Bouncer Banged a Brown Bear with a Blunderbuss,
In a lane at the back of Cole's Book Arcade.

Christopher Crabstick was Cross, Captious, Cutting, and Caustic,
Whenever he could not get a book brought from Cole's Book Arcade.

Francis Fizgig Ferociously Fought and Frightened a Fiddler,
At midday, right in front of Cole's Book Arcade.

Gregory Gimcrack Grinned and Gaped at the Geese and Ganders
Exposed for sale in the Eastern Market, just above Cole's Book Arcade.

Horatio Headstrong Hurled a Hatchet at the Head of a Hawk
Which sat on top of Cole's Book Arcade.

Isaac Ichabod Inhabited an Isolated and Inhospitable Indian Island,
At an enormous and disheartening distance from Cole's Book Arcade.

Lugubrious Longface Loved Learning and Literary Lore,
Which he always got out of the books he bought at Cole's Book Arcade.

Marmaduke Meddlesome Munificently Meted out Mercy to a Miserable Man
Who stole a book at Cole's Book Arcade.

Obadiah Orpheus Opened an Original Overture Outrageously Oddly,
With a small whistle and a big drum, in front of Cole's Book Arcade.

Quinton Querulous Queerly Questioned a Quibbling and Querulous Quidnunc,
And asked Quizzingly if he had ever seen the inside of Cole's Book Arcade.

Reuben Ramble Ran a Ridiculous Rattling Race on a Railway,
And beat the train in hasting to get a book at Cole's Book Arcade.

Theodore Thunderbolt Told Terrible and Tremendous Tales of Travelling,
Which were afterwards printed in books and sold at Cole's Book Arcade.

Valentine Valiana Valorously Vanquished a Vapouring Villager,
Who spoke ignorantly and slightingly of Cole's Book Arcade.

Xenophon Xenocles eXhibited eXtraordinary and eXcessive eXcitability
Whenever he was not calmed down by books from Cole's Book Arcade.

Young Yokel, a Youthful Yorkshire Yeoman Yawned at York,
For want of a few interesting and entertaining books from Cole's Book Arcade.

Zachariah Zany Zealously studied Zoology
Out of the works which he bought at Cole's Book Arcade.

    There was an Old Person of Prague,
    Who was suddenly seized with the plague,
But they gave him some butter, which caused him to mutter,
    And cured that Old Person of Prague.

    There was an Old Man with a gong,
    Who bumped at it all the day long,
But they called out, "Oh, law! you're a horrid old bore!"
    So they smashed that Old Man with a gong.

    There was an Old Man of the Isles,
    Whose face was pervaded with smiles,
He sang "Hi dum diddle," played on the fiddle,
    That amiable Old Man of the Isles.

    There was an Old Person of Dover,
    Who rushed through a field of blue clover;
But some very large Bees stung his nose and his knees,
    So he very soon went back to Dover.

    There was an Old Man of Quebec,—
    A beetle ran over his neck:
But he cried, "With a needle I'll slay you, O beetle!"
    That angry Old Man of Quebec.

    There was an Old Man of Vesuvius,
    Who studied the works of Vitruvius;
When the flames burned his book, to drinking he took,
    That morbid Old Man of Vesuvius.

    There was an Old Person of Buda,
    Whose conduct grew ruder and ruder,
Till at last with a hammer they silenced his clamour,
    By smashing that Old Person of Buda.

    There was an Old Man of Marseilles,
    Whose daughters wore bottle-green veils,
They caught several fish which they put in a dish,
    And sent to their Pa at Marseilles.

    There was an Old Man of Coblenz,
    The length of whose legs was immense,
He went with one prance from Turkey to France,
    That surprising Old Man of Coblenz.

    There was an Old Person of Gretna,
    Who rushed down the crater of Etna;
When they said, "Is it hot?" he replied, "No, it's not!"
    That mendacious Old Person of Gretna.

    There was an Old Person of Bangor,
    Whose face was distorted with anger;
He tore off his boots and subsisted on roots,
    That borascible Person of Bangor.

    There was an Old Person of Spain,
    Who hated all trouble and pain;
So he sat on a chair, with his feet in the air,
    That umbrageous Old Person of Spain.

    There was an Old Man of the West,
    Who never could get any rest;
So they set him to spin on his nose and his chin,
    Which cured that Old Man of the West.

    There was an Old Man in a tree,
    Who was horribly bored by a bee;
When they said, "Does it buzz?" he replied, "Yes it does!
    It's a regular brute of a bee!"

    There was an Old Man who said, "How,
    Shall I flee from this horrible Cow?
I will sit on this stile and continue to smile,
    Which may soften the heart of this Cow."

    There was an Old Man of Calcutta,
    Who perpetually ate bread and butter,
Till a great bit of muffin, on which he was stuffing,
    Choked that horrid Old Man of Calcutta.

    There was an Old Man of the South,
    Who had an immoderate mouth;
But in swallowing a dish that was quite full of fish,
    He was choked, that Old Man of the South.

    There was an Old Person of Dutton,
    Whose head was as small as a button;
So to make it look big, he purchased a wig,
    And rapidly rushed about Dutton.

    There was an Old Man of some rocks,
    Who shut his wife up in a box;
When she said, "Let me out," he exclaimed, "Without doubt
    You will pass all your life in that box,"

    There was an Old Person of Rheims,
    Who was troubled with horrible dreams;
So to keep him awake they fed him with cake,
    Which amused that Old Person of Rheims.

    There was an Old Man with a flute,
    A "sarpent" ran into his boot;
But he played day and night, till the "sarpent" took flight,
    And avoided that Man with a flute.

    There was an Old Man of Berlin,
    Whose form was uncommonly thin;
Till he once, by mistake, was mixed up in a cake,
    So they baked that Old Man of Berlin.

    There was an Old Man of the Hague,
    Whose ideas were excessively vague;
He built a balloon to examine the moon,
    That deluded Old Man of the Hague.

    There was an Old Man if Nepaul,
    From his horse had a terrible fall;
But, though split quite in two, with some very strong glue
    They mended that Man of Nepaul.

    There was an Old Man of Aoster,
    Who possessed a large cow, but he lost her;
But they said, "Don't you see she has rushed up a tree?
    You invidious Old Man of Aosta!"

    There was an Old Man of the Nile,
    Who sharpened his nails with a file,
Till he cuts of his thumbs, and said calmly, "This comes
    Of sharpening one's nails with a file!"

    There was an Old Person of Rhodes,
    Who strongly objected to toads;
He paid several cousins to catch them by dozens,
    That futile Old Person of Rhodes.

    There was an Old Man of Cape Horn,
    Who wished he had never been born;
So he sat on a chair until he died of despair,
    That dolorous Man of Cape Horn.

    There was an Old Person whose habits
    Induced him to feed upon rabbits;
When he'd eaten eighteen, he turned perfectly green,
    Upon which he relinquished those habits.

    There was an Old Man with a nose,
    Who said, "If you choose to suppose
That my nose is too long, you are certainly wrong!"
    That remarkable Man with a nose.

    There was an Old Man of Apulia,
    Whose conduct was very peculiar;
He fed twenty sons upon nothing but buns,
    That whimsical Man of Apulia.

    There was an Old Man of Madras,
    Who rode on a cream-coloured ass;
But the length of its ears so promoted his fears
    That it killed that Old Man of Madras.

    There was an Old Person of Sparta,
    Whose had twenty-five sons and one daughter;
He fed them snails, and weighed them on scales,
    That wonderful Person of Sparta.

    There was an Old Person of Chilli,
    Whose conduct was painful and silly;
He sat on the stairs, eating apples and pears,
    That imprudent Old Person of Chilli.

    There was an Old Man of the East,
    Who gave all his children a feast;
But they all ate so much, and their conduct was such
    That it killed that Old Man of the East.

    There was an Old Man of Peru,
    Who never knew what he should do;
So he tore off his hair, and behaved like a bear,
    That intrinsic Old Man of Peru.

    There was an Old Man in a boat,
    Who said, "I'm afloat! I'm afloat!"
When they said, "No you a'int!" he was ready to faint,
    That unhappy Old Man in a boat.

    There was an Old Man of Bohemia,
    Whose daughter was christened Euphemia,
But one day, to his grief, she married a thief,
    Which grieved that Old Man of Bohemia.

    There was an Old Person of Basing,
    Whose presence of mind was amazing;
He purchased a steed, which he rode at full speed
    And escaped from the people of Basing.

    There was an Old Man on a hill,
    Who seldom if ever stood still;
He ran up and down in his Grandmother's gown,
    Which adorned that Old Man on a hill.

    There was an Old Man of Kilkenny,
    Who never had more than a penny,
He spent all that money on onions and honey,
    That wayward Old Man of Kilkenny.

    There was an Old Person of Perth,
    The stingiest fellow on earth;
He fed—oh! 'twas cruel—on seaweed and gruel,
    This stingy Old Person of Perth.

    A dogmatic Old Fellow of Shoreham,
    Would snub his companions and bore 'em,
By flat contradiction, which was an affliction
    To the friends of this party of Shoreham.

    There was an Old Person of Ischia,
    Whose conduct grew friskier and friskier;
He danced hornpipes and jigs, and ate thousands of figs,
    That lively Old Person of Ischia.

    There was an Old Person of Hurst,
    Who drank when he was not athirst;
When they said, "You'll grow fatter!" he answered, "What matter?"
    That globular Person of Hurst.

John Gilpin was a citizen
  Of credit and renown,
A train-bound Captain eke was he
  Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,
  Though we have wedded been,
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
  No holiday have seen.

To-morrow is our wedding-day,
  And we then will repair
Unto the "Bell" at Edmonton,
  All in a chaise and pair,
My sister and my sister's child,
  Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise, so you must ride
  On horse-back after we.

He soon replied—I do admire
  Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
  Therefore it shall be done,
I am a linen-draper bold,
  As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the Calender,
  Will lend his horse to go.

Quoth Mrs Gilpin—That's well said;
  And for that wind is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,
  Which is both bright and clear;
John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife,
  O'erjoyed was he to find
That, though on pleasure she was bent,
  She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought,
  And yet was not allow'd
To drive up to the door, lest all
  Should say that she was proud;
So three doors off the post was stayed,
  Where they did all get in,
Six precious souls, and all agog
  To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
  Were never folks so glad,
The stones did rattle underneath
  As if Cheapside were mad;
John Gilpin at his horse's side
  Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got in haste to ride,
  But soon came down again.

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
  His journey to begin,
When turning round his head, he saw
  Three customers come in;
So down he came—for loss of time,
  Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
  Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers
  Were suited to their mind,
When Betty, screaming, came down the stairs,
  "The wine is left behind."
Good lack! quoth he, yet bring it me,
  My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword
  When I do exercise.

Now, Mistress Gilpin, careful soul,
  Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
  And keep it safe and sound,
Each bottle had a curling ear,
  Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side,
  To make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be
  Equipp'd from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat,
  He manfully did throw,
Now see him mounted once again
  Upon his nimble steed,
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones
  With caution and good heed.

But, finding soon a smoother road
  Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
  Which gall'd him in his seat,
So, "Fair and softly," John, he cried,
  But John, he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
  In spite of curb and rein.

So, stooping down, as needs he must,
  Who cannot sit upright,
 He grasp'd the mane with both his hands,
  And eke with all his might,
His horse, who never in that sort,
  Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
  Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
  Away went hat and wig,
He little dreamt when he set out
  Of running such a rig;
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
  Like streamer long and gay,
Till, loop and button failing both,
  At last it flew away.

Then might people well discern
  The bottles he had slung,
A bottle swinging at each side,
  As had been said or sung,
The dogs did bark, the children scream'd,
  Up flew the windows all,
And ev'ry soul cried out, Well done!
  As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin—who but he,
  His fame soon spread around—
He carries weight, he rides a race!
  'Tis for a thousand pound!
And still as fast as he drew near,
  'Twas wonderful to view
How in a trice the turnpike men
  Their gates wide open flew.

And now as he went bowing down
  His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
  Were shatter'd at a blow;
Down ran the wine into the road,
  Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horses flanks to smoke,
  As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight,
  With leathern girdle braced,
For all might see the bottle-necks
  Still dangling at his waist;
Thus all through merry Islington
  These gambols did he play,
And till he came into the Wash
  Of Edmonton so gay.

And there he threw the wash about
  On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
  Or a wild goose at play.
At Edmonton his loving wife
  From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wond'ring much
  To see how he did ride.

Stop, stop, John Gilpin!—Here's the house—
  They all at once did cry,
The dinner waits, and we are tired—
  Said Gilpin—So am I;
But yet this horse was not a whit
  Inclined to tarry there—
For why? His owner had a house
  Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So, like an arrow, swift he flew,
  Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly—which brings me to
  The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
  And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the Calender's
  His horse at last stood still.

The Calender, amazed to see
  His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
  And thus accosted him:—
What news? what news? your tidings tell!
  Tell me you must and shall—
Say why bare-headed you are come,
  Or why you come at all?

Now, Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
  And loved a timely joke,
And thus unto the Calender,
  In merry guise he spoke—
I came because your horse would come,
  And if I well forbode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,
  They are upon the road.

The Calender, right glad to find
  His friend in merry pin,
Return'd him not a single word,
  But to the house went in.
When straight he came with hat and wig—
  A wig that flow'd behind;
A hat not much the worse of wear—
  Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in its turn
  Thus showed his ready wit—
My head is twice as big as yours,
  They therefore needs must fit.
But let me scrape the dirt away
  That hangs upon your face,
And stop and eat, for well you may
  Be in a hungry case.

Said John, It is my wedding-day,
  And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
  And I should dine at Ware.
So, turning to his horse, he said—
  I am in haste to dine,
'Twas for your pleasure you came here,
  You shall go back for mine.

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast,
  For which he paid full dear;
For while he spake, a braying ass
  Did sing most loud and clear,
Whereat his horse did snort as he
  Had heard a lion's roar,
And gallop'd off with all his might,
  As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
  Went Gilpin's hat and wig;
He lost them sooner than the first,
  For why? they were too big.
Now, Mistress Gilpin when she saw
  Her husband posting down
Into the country, far away,
  She pulled out half-a-crown.

And thus unto the youth she said
  That drove them to the "Bell"—
This shall be yours when you bring back
  My husband safe and well;
The youth did ride, and soon did meet
  John coming back again,
Whom in a trice, he tried to stop
  By catching at his rein.

But, not performing what he meant,
  And gladly would have done,
The frightened steed he frightened more,
  And made him faster run;
Away went Gilpin, and away
  Went post-boy at his heels—
The post-boy's horse right glad to miss
  The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
  Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear,
  They raised the hue and cry:—
Stop thief! stop thief!—a highwayman!
An all and each that pass'd the way
  Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again
  Flew open in short space—
The toll-men thinking as before,
  That Gilpin rode a race;
And so he did, and won it, too,
  For he got first to town:
Nor stopp'd till, where he had got up,
  He did again get down,

Now let us sing: Long live the king,
  And Gilpin, long live he;
And when he next doth ride abroad,
  May I be there to see.

Cole's Book Arcade, Cole's Book Arcade
  It is in Melbourne town,
Of all the book stores in the land
  It has the most renown,

It was the first, first Book Arcade
  That in the world was found;
It's still the finest Book Arcade
  In all the world around.

A lovely rainbow sign appears
  Above the Book Arcade
And 'tis the very grandest sign
  Was ever yet displayed.

Full forty thousand sorts of books
  Are stored within its walls,
Which can be seen, looked at or bought,
  By anyone that calls.

The book you wish, the book you want,
  Is almost sure to be
Found somewhere in the Book Arcade,
  If you will call and see.

BOOKS should be found in every house
  To form and feed the mind;
They are the best of luxuries
  'Tis possible to find.

For all the books in all the world
  Are man's greatest treasure;
They make him wish, and bring to him
  His best, his choicest pleasure.

BOOKS make his time pass happily
  Through many weary hours;
Amuse, compose, instruct his mind,
  Enlarge his mental powers.

BOOKS give to him the history
  Of each and every land;
BOOKS show him human action's past—
  The bad, the good, the grand.

BOOKS show him arts, laws, learnings, faiths
  Of every time and place;
BOOKS show him how each thing is made
  Used by the human race.

BOOKS give to him the greatest thoughts
  Of all the good and wise;
BOOKS treasure human knowledge up,
  And so it never dies.

BOOKS show him all that men have done,
  What they have thought and said;
BOOKS show the deeds and wisdom of
  The living and the dead.

BOOKS show him all the hopes and fears
  Of every race and clan;
BOOKS clearly prove beyond a doubt
  The brotherhood of man.

BOOKS give him hopes beyond the grave
  Of an immortal life;
BOOKS teach that right and truth and love
  Shall banish every strife.

BOOKS teach and please him when a child
  In youth and in his prime;
BOOKS give him soothing pleasure when
  His health and strength decline.

BOOKS please him in his lonely hours,
  Wherever he may roam:
BOOKS please when read aloud among
  His loving friends at home.

BOOKS like strong drink will drown his cares,
  But do not waste his wealth;
BOOKS leave him better, drink the worse,
  In character and health.

BOOKS therefore, are, of all man buys,
  The choicest thing on earth,
BOOKS have, of all his household goods,
  The most intrinsic worth.

BOOKS are the greatest blessing out,
  The grandest thing we sell,
BOOKS bring more joy, BOOKS do more good
  Than mortal tongue can tell.

                E. W. Cole

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children—such naughty ones too!
She cried, "Oh, dear me, I don't know what to do,
Who would be an old woman and live in a shoe?"

Once ninety little fellows sat down on the floor
And lustily screamed, "We won't cry any more!"
"Then stop crying now," the old woman said,
"The noise you are making goes right through my head."

"Then she gave the boys broth without any bread,
And whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.
She scolded the girls, and said, "Don't make a noise,
Or you shall be served just the same as the boys."

Old Mother Goose, when
  She wanted to wander,
Would ride through the air
  On a very fine gander.

Mother Goose had a house,
  'Twas built of wood,
Where an owl at the door
  For sentinel stood.

She had a son Jack,
  A plain-looking lad,
He was not very good,
  Nor yet very bad.

She sent him to market;
  A live goose he bought;
Here, mother, says he,
  It will not go for nought.

Jack's goose and her gander
  They grew very fond;
They'd both eat together,
  Or swim in one pond.

Jack found one morning,
  As I have been told,
His goose had laid him
  An egg of pure gold.

Jack rode to his mother,
  The news for to tell,
She call'd him a good boy,
  And said it was well.

Hack sold his gold egg
  To a rogue of a Jew,
Who cheated him out of
  The half of his due.

Then Jack went a-courting
  A lady so gay,
As fair as the lily,
  And sweet as the May.

The Jew and the Squire
  Came behind his back,
And began to belabour
  The sides of poor Jack.

Then old Mother Goose
  That instant came in,
And turned her son Jack
  Into fam'd Harlequin.

She then with her wand
  Touch'd the lady so fine,
And turn'd her at once
  Into sweet Columbine.

The gold egg in the sea
  Was quickly thrown, when
Jack gave a quick dive,
  And soon got it again.

The Jew got the goose,
  Which he vow'd he would kill,
Resolving at once
  His pockets to fill.

Jack's mother came in,
  And caught the goose soon,
And mounting its back,
  Flew up to the moon.

There was an old woman lived under a hill,
Put a mouse in a bag, and sent it to mill;
The Miller declar'd by the point of his knife,
He ne'er saw such a big mouse in his life.

There was an old woman lived under a hill;
And if she's not gone, she lives there still.

There was an old woman had three sons;
Jerry, and James, and John.
Jerry was hung, James was drowned;
John was lost, and never was found;
And there was an end of the three sons,
Jerry, and James, and John.

A little old woman, as I've heard tell,
Lived near the sea, in a nice little shell;
She was well off, if she wanted her tea—
She'd plenty of water from out of the sea.

Then if for her dinner she had the least wish,
Of course she had nothing to do but to fish;
So, really, this little old woman did well,
As she didn't pay any rent for the use of the shell.

There was an old woman called Nothing-at-all,
Who rejoiced in a dwelling exceedingly small;
A man stretched his mouth to its utmost extent,
And down at one gulp house and old woman went.

There was an old woman sat spinning,
And that's the first beginning;
She had a calf, and that's half;
She took it by the tail,
And threw it over the wall, and that's all.

There was an old woman, her name it was Peg;
Her head was of wood, and she wore a cork-leg.
The neighbours all pitched her into the water,
Her leg was drown'd first, and her head followed a'ter.

At Stepney there lived,
  As every one knows,
An old woman who had
  A plum tree on her nose!

The boys, while she slept,
  Would cautiously take
The plums from her tree
  Before she could wake.

This old woman went
  One day to the lawn
Of my Lord Cockagee,
  And there saw a fawn.

Having shot him, she tied
  His hind legs to her tree,
And so quitted the lawn
  Of my Lord Cockagee.

She'd nearly reached home,
  When the constable came,
And put her in prison
  For killing the game.

While locked in her cell,
  She thought again and again
Of how to escape,
  But kept thinking in vain.

She considered each plan,
  Till she found out a way
Of escaping the prison
  In the course of the day.

She cut the plum tree
  close off from her nose,
And made a scarecrow,
  Dress'd up in her clothes;

This she set on a stool,
  With it's back to the wall,
And watch'd near the door
  For fear it would fall.

Soon the jailor came in
  With her water and bread;
He stared at the figure,
  While from prison she fled.

The old woman reached home,
  Singing diddle-dee-dee;
And again on her nose
  There grew a plum tree.

There was an old person of Smyrna,
Whose Granny once threatened to burn her;
  But she seized on the cat,
  And said "Granny, burn that!
You incongruous old woman of Smyrna!"

There was an old lady of Bute,
Who played on a silver-gilt flute;
  She played several jigs
  To her Uncle's white pigs,
That amusing old lady of Bute.

There was an old lady of Ryde,
Whose shoe-strings were seldom untied,
  She purchased some clogs,
  And some small spotted dogs,
And frequently walked about Ryde.

There was an old lady of Parma,
Whose conduct grew calmer and calmer,
  When they said "Are you dumb?"
  She merely said "Hum!"
That provoking old lady of Parma.

There was an old lady of Troy,
Whom several large flies did annoy;
  Some she killed with a thump,
  Some she drowned at the pump,
And some she took with her to Troy.

There was an old person of Crete,
Whose toilet was far from complete,
  She dressed in a sack
  Spickle-speckled with black,
That ombliferous old person of Crete.

There was an old lady of Wales,
Who caught a large fish without scales;
  When she lifted her hook,
  She exclaimed "Only look!"
That ecstatic old lady of Wales.

There was an old lady of Clare,
Who was sadly pursued by a bear;
  When she found she was tired,
  She abruptly expired,
That unfortunate lady of Clare.

There was an old lady of Dorking,
Who bought a large bonnet for walking;
  But it's colour and size,
  So bedazzled her eyes,
That she very soon went back to Dorking.

There was an old lady of Russia,
Who screamed so that no one could hush her;
  Her screams were extreme,
  No one heard such a scream,
As was screamed by that lady of Russia.

There was an old lady of Norway,
Who casually sat in a doorway;
  When the door squeezed her flat,
  She exclaimed, "What of that?"
That courageous old lady of Norway.

There was an old lady of Chertsey,
Who made a remarkable curtsey;
  She twirled round and round,
  Till she sank underground,
Which distressed all the people of Chertsey.

There was an old woman of Anerley,
Whose conduct was strange and unmannerly.
  She rushed down the Strand,
  With a pig in each hand,
But returning in the evening to Anerley.

There was an old lady of Welling,
Whose praise all the world was a-telling;
  She played on the harp,
  And caught several carp,
That accomplished old lady of Welling.

There was an old lady of Turkey,
Who wept when the weather was murky;
  When the day turned out fine,
  She ceased to repine,
That capricious old lady of Turkey.

There was an old woman went up in a basket,
  Ninety-nine times as high as the moon;
What she did there I could not but ask it,
  For in her hand she carried a broom.

"Old woman, old woman, old woman," quoth I,
"O whither, O whither, O whither, so high?"
"To sweep the cobwebs off the sky,—
And I shall be back again by and by!"

There was an old woman of Hull,
Who was chased by a virulent bull;
  But she seized on a spade,
  And called out "Who's afraid?"
Which distracted that virulent bull.

There was an old lady of Poole,
Whose soup was excessively cool;
  So she put it to boil,
  By the aid of some oil,
That ingenious old lady of Poole.

There was an old lady of Burton,
Whose answers were rather uncertain;
  When they said "How d'ye do?"
  She replied "Who are you?"
That distressing old person of Burton.

There was an old lady of Lucca,
Whose lovers completely forsook her;
  She ran up a tree,
  And said "Fiddle-de-dee!"
Which embarrassed the people of Lucca.

There was an old woman of Norwich,
Who lived on nothing but porridge;
  Parading the town,
  She turned cloak into gown,
That thrifty old woman of Norwich.

There was an old woman of Leeds,
Who spent all her time in good deeds;
  She worked for the poor,
  Till her fingers were sore,
That pious old woman of Leeds.

There was an old woman in Surrey,
Who was morn, noon, and night in a hurry;
  Called her husband a fool,
  Drove the children to school,
That worrying old woman in Surrey.

There was an old lady whose bonnet
Came untied when the birds sat upon it;
  But she said "I don't care!
  All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet!"

There was an old lady whose nose
Was so long that it reached to her toes;
  So she hired an old lady,
  Whose conduct was steady,
To carry that wonderful nose.

There was an old lady whose chin
Resembled the point of a pin;
  So she had it made sharp,
  And purchased a harp,
On which to play tunes with her chin.

There was an old lady whose eyes,
Were unique as to colour and size;
  When she opened them wide,
  People all turned aside,
And started away in surprise.

There was a young lady of Hexham,
Contradicted her friends just to vex 'em;
  She talked about horses,
  And rode on racecourses,
This forward young lady of Hexham.