Hickup, hickup, go away!
Come again another day:
Hickup, hickup, when I bake,
I'll give to you a butter-cake.

Dance, little baby, dance up high,
Never mind, baby, mother is nigh;
Crow and caper, caper and crow—
There, little baby, there you go!
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards and forwards, round and round.
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing!
Merrily, merrily, ding, dong, ding!

Dance to your daddy,
My little babby,
Dance to your daddy,
My little lamb.
You shall have a fishy
In a little dishy;
You shall have a fishy
When the boat comes in.

Danty baby diddy,
What can a mammy do wid'e,
  But sit in a lap,
  And give 'un a pap?
Sing danty baby diddy.

Hush-a-bye, a baa lamb,
  Hush-a-by a milk cow,
You shall have a little stick
  To beat the naughty bow-wow.

Bye, baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a hunting,
To get a little rabbit skin
To wrap a baby bunting in.

Hush-a-bye baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall;
Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all.
Hush-a-bye baby, Daddy is near:
Mammy's a lady, and that's very clear.

Rock-a-bye baby, thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.

My dear cockadoodle, my jewel, my joy,
My darling, my honey, my pretty, sweet boy;
Before I do rock thee with soft lullaby,
Give me thy dear lips to be kiss'd, kiss'd, kiss'd.

Baby, baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tucked in tight,
Little baby, dear, good night.

  Hush thee, my babby,
  Lie still with thy daddy,
Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
  To grind thee some wheat,
  To make thee some meat,
And so, my babby, lie still.

Oh, my lady! my lady! my lady!
Here's that funny monkey
Has put on your night-cap,
And is feeding
The baby! the baby! the baby!

Baby, baby ope your eye,
For the sun is in the sky,
And he's peeping once again
Through the pretty window pane:
Little baby, do not keep
Any longer fast asleep.

Wash hands, wash,
  Daddy's gone to plough;
If you want your hands wash'd,
  Have them washed now.

Comb hair, comb,
  Daddy's gone to plough;
If you want your hair comb'd
  Have it combed now.

My pretty baby-brother
  Is six months old to-day,
And though he cannot speak,
  He knows whate'er I say.

Whenever I come near,
  He crows for very joy;
And dearly do I love him,
  The darling baby-boy.

He opens his mouth when he kisses you;
He cries very loud when he misses you;
He says "Boo! boo! boo!" for "How-do-you-do?"
And he strokes down your face when he's loving you.

Come, my darling, come away,
Take a pretty walk to-day;
Run along, and never fear,
I'll take care of baby dear;
Up and down with little feet,
That's the way to walk, my sweet.

See-saw sacradown,
Which is the way to London town,
One foot up is the other down,
That is the way to London town.

Baby, baby Charlie,
  Naughty in his play,
Slapping little Annie,
  Pushing her away.

Patting with his soft hands,
  Laughing in his fun;
Slapping with such good-will,
  That the tear-drops run.

Do not cry, dear Annie,
  Wipe away the tear;
Keep away from Charlie,
  Do not come so near,

Or his little hands will
  Pull your curly hair;
Peep at baby, Annie—
  Peep behind the chair.

Kiss the baby, darling,
  Kiss the little one;
He is only playing,
  In his baby fun.

A was an archer, who shot at a frog;
B was a butcher, who had a great dog;
C was a captain, all covered with lace;
D was a drunkard, and had a red face;
E was an esquire, with pride on his brow;
F was a farmer, who followed the plough;
G was a gamer, who had but ill luck;
H was a hunter, and hunted a buck;
I was an innkeeper, who loved to bouse;
J was a joiner, and built up a house;
K was King William, once governed this land;
L was a lady, who had a white hand;
M was a miser, and hoarded up gold:
N was a nobleman, gallant and bold;
O was an oyster girl, and went about town;
P was a parson, and wore a black gown;
Q was a queen, who wore a silk slip;
R was a robber, and wanted a whip;
S was a sailor, and spent all he got;
T was a tinker, and mended a pot;
U was an usurer, a miserable elf;
V was a vintner, who drank all himself;
W was a watchman, and guarded the door;
X was expensive, and so became poor;
Y was a youth, that did not love school;
Z was a Zany, a poor harmless fool;

Sing a song-a-sixpence,
  A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
  Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened
  The birds began to sing:
Was that not a dainty dish
  To set before the king?
The king was in his counting-house,
  Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour,
  Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden,
  Hanging out the clothes;
Down came a blackbird,
  And snapt off her nose.

If I'd as much money as I could spend,
I never would cry old chairs to mend;
Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend;
I never would cry old chairs to mend.
If I'd as much money as I could tell,
I never would cry old clothes to sell;
Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell;
I never would cry old clothes to sell.

Cock-a-doodle-doo,
My dad's gane to ploo;
Mammy's lost her pudding-poke
And knows not what to do.

Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns!
One a penny, two a penny,
  Hot-cross buns!
Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns!
If you have no daughters,
  Give them to your sons.

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit-pie!
Come, my ladies, come and buy;
Else your babies they will cry.

A apple pie;
B bit it;
C cut it;
D danced for it;
E eat it;
F fought for it;
G got it;
H had it;
I ignored it;
J jumped for it;
K kept it;
L longed for it;
M mourned for it;
N nodded at it;
O opened it;
P peeped in it;
Q quartered it;
R ran for it;
S stole it;
T took it;
U uncovered it;
V viewed it;
W wanted it;
X ax'ed for it;
Y yawned for it:
Z cried, "Zounds! let's eat it up."

Rub a dub, dub,
Three men in a tub;
And who do you think they were?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,
They all came out of a rotten potato.

Hey ding a ding, what shall I sing?
How many holes in a skimmer?
Four-and-twenty, my stomach is empty;
Pray mamma, give me some dinner.

Barber, barber, shave a pig,
How many hairs will make a wig?
"Four-and-twenty, that's enough,"
Give the barber a pinch of snuff.

Punch and Judy fought for a pie;
Punch gave Judy a blow on the eye.

Pease pudding hot,
  Pease pudding cold,
Pease pudding in the pot,
  Nine days old.

A little bit of powdered beef,
  And a great net of cabbage,
The best meal I have to-day
  Is a good bowl of porridge.

The barber shaved the mason,
As I suppose cut of his nose,
And popp'd it in a basin.

I saw a ship a-sailing,
  A-sailing on the sea;
And, oh! it was all laden
  With pretty things for thee.
There were comfits in the cabin,
  And apples in the holds;
The sails were made of silk,
  And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors
  That stood between the decks,
Were four-and-twenty white mice,
  With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
  With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
  The captain said "Quack quack!"

Little Tee Wee' he went to sea
In an open boat; and while afloat
The little boat bended,
And my story's ended.

Jack be nimble, and Jack be quick;
And Jack jump over the candle-stick.

Jack Sprat had a cat,
  It had but one ear;
It went to buy butter
  When butter was dear.

Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,
  Eating a Christmas Pie;
He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I!"

Little Tom Tucker
Sings for his supper;
What shall he eat?
White bread and butter.
How shall he cut it
Without e'er a knife?
How will he be married
Without e'er a wife?

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the girls came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away.

See-saw, Margery Daw,
Little Jacky shall have a new master;
Little Jacky shall have but a penny a day,
Because he can't work any faster.

Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born?
Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.

Handy Spandy, Jack-a-dandy,
Loved plum-cake and sugar-candy;
He bought some at a grocer's shop,
And out he came, hop, hop, hop.

Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his stockings on;
One shoe off, the other shoe on.
Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John

Jack and Jill went up the hill,
  To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
  And Jill came tumbling after.

Willie drew a little pig,
Harry drew a mouse,
Tommy drew a ladder tall
Leaning on a house.

Baa, baa, black sheep,
  Have you any wool?
Yes, marry have I,
  Three bags full:
One for my master,
  And one for my dame,
But none for the little boy
  Who cries in the lane.

Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran after the spoon.

  "Hey! diddle diddle,
  The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped under the moon;
  The little dog barked
  to see such sport
And the cat ran after the spoon!" [*]

There was a little boy, went into a barn,
  And lay down on some hay;
An owl came out, and flew about,
  And the little boy ran away.

Tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee
  Resolved to have a battle,
For tweedle-dum said tweedle-dee
  Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew by a monstrous crow,
  As big as a tar-barrel,
Which frightened both the heroes so,
  They quite forgot their quarrel.

  Baby and I
  Were baked in a pie,
The gravy was wonderful hot;
  We had nothing to pay
  To the baker that day
  And so we crept out of the pot.

High diddle doubt, my candle's out,
  My little maid is not at home;
Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog,
  And fetch my little maid home.

Rowsty dowt, my fire's all out,
My little dame is not at home;
I'll saddle my goose and bridle my hen,
And fetch my little dame home again;
Home she came, tritty trot;
And asked for the porridge she left in the pot.

  We're all in the dumps,
  For diamonds are trumps;
The kittens are gone to St. Paul's!
  The babies are bit,
  The moon's in a fit,
And the houses are built without walls.

Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
  That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
  And send us some hot in the morn.
    Rosemary green,
      And lavender blue,
    Thyme and sweet marjoram,
      Hyssop and rue.

Come, let's to bed, says Sleepy-head
  Tarry a while says Slow;
Put on the pot, says Greedy-Jock,
  Let's sup before we go.

Go to bed first,
A golden purse;
Go to bed second,
A golden Pheasant;
Go to bed third,
A golden bird.

  Cry-baby Belle
  Is always in tears
Nothing you can give her can ease her!
  Sugar and spice,
  And everything nice,
Kisses and cakes will not please her.

  She'll cry if she happens
  To get a slight fall,
She'll cry if the naughty boys tease her;
  She'll cry for a spoon,
  And she'll cry for the moon;
So there's no use in trying to please her.

  If the food set before her
  Don't happen to suit—
Oh, then just as loud as she's able,
  This cry-baby Belle
  Will set up a yell,
And scare all the folks at the table.

  If she wants to go out
  In the street she will cry;
If she wants to come in how she screeches!
  For nothing at all
  She will set up and bawl,
Unmindful of comforting speeches,

  She screams in the morning
  Because she's not dress'd;
And at night when they want to undress her
  More loudly she'll roar,
  And roll over the floor
As if she had pains to distress her.

  She cries when she's sick,
  And she cries when she's well,
And often cries when she's sleeping,
  So that heavy and red,
  And most out of her head
Are her eyes, on account of such weeping.

  She always is fretful,
  Unhappy, and cross,
No matter what she may be doing,
  And cry-baby Belle
  Pleases nobody well
Because of her constant boo-hooing.

My sweet little girl should be careful and mild,
  And should not be fretful, and cry!
Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child,
  God sees you, who lives in the sky.

That dear little face, which I like so to kiss,
  How frightful and sad it appears!
Do you think I can love you, so naughty as this,
  Or kiss you so wetted with tears?

Remember, tho' God is in heaven, my love,
  He sees you within and without,
And he always looks down from His glory above,
  To notice what you are about.

If I am not with you, or if it be dark,
  And nobody is in the way,
His eye is as able your doings to mark,
  In the night as it is in the day.

Then dry up your tears, and look smiling again
  And never do things that are wrong;
For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain,
  To be naughty, and crying so long.

  Paulina Pry
  Would eat nothing but pie;
Pie was her daily diet;
  Apple or plum,
  She must have some
Or else she wouldn't be quiet.

  She would not eat
  Any bread or meat,
Though plenty of these were handy,
  But would pout and cry
  For a piece of pie,
Or a stick of sugar-candy.

  They heard her cry
  In the Land of Pie,
And sent her dozens and dozens,
  Both tender and tough,
  Till she'd had more than enough
For her sisters, her aunts and her cousins.

Poor little Annie, you will find,
Is very gentle, good, and kind,
But soon a a fault appears.
The slightest thing will give her pain,
Her feelings she can ne'er restrain,
But gives way to her tears.

The other day when Ferdinand—
And if you search throughout the land,
No nicer boy you'll find—
Said something which he never meant
To cause the slightest discontent,
For hours she sobbed and whined.

Her father grieved, said: "This must cease
We never have a moment's peace,
She cries both day and night."
A portrait painter then he paid,
To paint his little tearful maid,
Crying with all her might.

He set to work that very day,
Directly he received his pay;
The picture soon was done.
Yes, there she was, all sobs and sighs,
Large tear-drops streaming from her eyes.
"How like!" said every one.

It was in truth a great success;
Quite perfect, neither more nor less;
Her father was so glad.
He hung the portrait in her room;
It filled her with the deepest gloom;
She felt annoyed and sad.

With every relative who came,
And saw the picture, 'twas the same,
All startled with affright.
Uncles, and aunts, and cousins too,
Found it so striking, life-like, true
That soon they took to flight.

Annie not long could this endure;
It brought about a speedy cure,
She ceased to cry and moan.
Her father ceased to scold and frown,
He had the picture taken down,
And in the garret thrown.

Oh! This is a happy, beautiful world!
  My heart is light and gay;
The birds in the trees sing blithely to me
  And I'm six years old to-day.

Yes, six, and father has bought me a book,
  And mother, the sweetest doll,
All dressed in white with blue eyes bright,
  And the nicest hat and shawl.

My kitty sat quietly near the fire
  As Dolly and I came by;
Miss Dolly bowed, and pussy meowed,
  And opened her yellow eye.

Ah me! if Kit could only talk,
  And Dolly could but chat,
We'd social be as any three—
  Talk, sing, and all of that.

I dressed all up in grandma's cap,
  And put on her glasses too;
"Why, Grandma!" I said, as I looked at myself,
  "I'm almost as old as you."

My mother softly kissed my cheek,
  And then she blessed me too,
Praying that I, as years went by,
  Might be as good and true.

My birthday song is a merry one,
  And my heart is warm and light;
Kind father, mother, and dear grandma,
  Sweet dolly and pussy, good night.

A funny thing I heard to-day,
  I might as well relate.
Our Lil is six, and little May
  Still lacks a month of eight.

And, through the open play-room door,
  I heard the elder say:
"Lil, run downstairs and get my doll;
  Go quick, now—right away!"

And Lillie said—(and I agreed
  That May was hardly fair):—
"You might say 'please,' or go yourself—
  I didn't leave it there."

"But, Lillie," urged the elder one,
  "Your little legs, you know,
Are younger than mine are, child,
  And so you ought to go!"

"I would not be a girl," said Jack,
  "Because they have no fun;
They cannot go a-fishing, nor
  A-shooting with a gun;
They cannot climb up trees for fruit,
  Nor bathe without a bathing dress,
Which is no fun at all."

"I would not be a boy," said May,
  "For boys are nasty things,
With pockets filled with hooks and knives,
  And nails, and tops and strings
And when a boy becomes a man,
  He's got to buy girls rings;"

"I'm losted! Could you find me, please?"
  Poor little frightened baby!
The wind had tossed her golden fleece,
The stones had scratched her dimpled knees,
I stooped and lifted her with ease,
  And softly whispered "Maybe."

"Tell me your name, my little maid:
  I can't find you without it."
"My name is Shiny-eyes," she said,
"Yes; but your last name?" She shook her head:
"Up to my house 'ey never said
  A single word about it."

"But, dear," I said, "what is your name?"
  "Why, didn't you hear me told you?
Dust Shiny-eyes." A bright thought came:
"Yes, when you're good. But when they blame
You little one,—is it just the same
  When mamma has to scold you?"

"My mamma never scolds," she moans,
  A little blush ensuing,
"'Cept when I've been a-frowing stones;
And then she says (the culprit owns),—
Mehitabel Sapphira Jones.
  What has you been a-doing?"

                  Anna E. Burnham

  Here stands little, little Mary,
With her face of winning grace,
Chattering tongue that runs apace,
  And her ways contrary

  Who so gay as Mary?
With her laughs of rippling glee
Brimming o'er with melody,—
  Bonny, blithesome Mary.

  Household pet is Mary—
Such a merry, joyous sprite,
Filling all our home with light—
  Pretty winsome Mary!

  Mischief-loving Mary,
Busy as the busiest bee,
Full of sunshine, life, and glee
  Is our heart's sweet Mary!

As Peter sat at Heaven's gate
  A maiden sought permission,
And begged of him, if not too late,
  To give her free admission.

"What claim hast thou to enter here?"
  He cried with earnest mien.
"Please sir," said she, 'twixt hope and fear,
  "I'm only just sixteen!"

"Enough," the hoary guardian said,
  And the gate wide open threw.
"That is the age when every maid
  Is girl and angel too."

Once I knew a little girl,
  Who wouldn't go to bed,
And in the morning always had
  A very sleepy head.

At night she'd stop upon the stairs,
  And hold the railings tight
Then with a puff she'd try to blow
  Out Mary Ann's rushlight.

The bed at last they tuck'd her in,
  The light she vow'd to keep;
Left in the dark she roar'd and cried;
  Till tired she went to sleep.

Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
  Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
  Nor noisy quarrels here.

What! little children scold and fight
  Who ought to be so mild;
Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight
  To see an angry child.

I can't imagine for my part,
  The reason of your folly,
As if she did you any hurt
  By playing with your dolly.

Let dogs delight to bark an bite,
  For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight:
  For 'tis their nature to.

But children you should never let
  Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
  To tear each other's eyes.

Why is Mary standing there,
  Leaning down upon the chair,
With pouting lip and frowning brow?
  I wonder what's the matter now.

Come here, my dear, and tell me true,
  Is it because I spoke to you
About what you just now had done,
  That you are such a naughty one?

When, then, indeed, I'm grieved to see
  That you can so ill-tempered be:
You make your faults a great deal worse
  By being sulky and perverse.

Oh! how much better it appears,
  To see you melting into tears,
And then to hear you humbly say,
  "I'll not do so another day!"

What! cry when I wash you! not love to be clean?
There, go and be dirty, unfit to be seen;
And till you leave off, and I see you have smiled,
I'll not take the trouble to wash such a child.

A little girl, named Mary Kate,
  Whom you may have chance to see,
Would have been loved by small and great,
But for one thing, which I'll relate;
  So listen now to me.

A silly habit she's acquired
  Of putting in her mouth,
The pretty fingers of her hand,
And sucking them, for hours she'd stand,
  In a manner most uncouth.

Her play-companions used to laugh,
  And jeeringly would say,
"Oh, pray bring Mary Kate some crumbs,
Poor thing! she's dining off her thumbs,
  She'll eat them all away."

This is Nelly Pilfer;
  I'll tell you what she earned
By stealing off the treacle
  When Mary's back was turned.

They caught the greedy Nelly
  With treacle on her hand,
They put her in the corner,
  And there they made her stand.

Little Polly Flinders,
Sat among the cinders,
  Warming her pretty toes;
Her mother came and caught her,
And scolded her little daughter,
  For spoiling her nice new clothes.

I knew a greedy little girl,
  Who all day long did roar;
Whatever toys were given her,
  She always wanted more.

Five dolls she had—one was black,
  A ball and battledore,
But held them all so very tight,
  The roar'd and scream'd for more.

Now this was wicked of the child,
  As everyone must own;
So for the whole of one long day
  They shut her up alone.

Mamma, a little girl I met,
Had such a scar, I can't forget!
All down her arms and neck and face;
I could not bear to see the place.

Poor little girl! and don't you know
The shocking trick that made her so?
'Twas all because she went and did
A thing her mother had forbid.

For once, when nobody was by her,
This silly child would play with fire;
And long before her mother came,
Her pinafore was all in flame.

In vain she tried to put it out,
Till all her clothes were burnt about;
And then she suffer'd ten times more,
All over with a dreadful sore.

For many months before 'twas cured,
Both day and night the pain endured;
And still you see, when passing by her,
How sad it is to play with fire.

Little Miss Consequence strutted about,
  Turned up her nose, pointed her toes,
And thought herself quite a grand person, no doubt.
Gave herself airs; took many cares,
  To appear old; was haughty and cold.
She spoke to the servants like a dog or a cat
And fussed about this, and fussed about that.

"But, mamma, now," said Charlotte, "pray don't you believe
  That I'm better than Jenny my nurse?
Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve;
  Her clothes are a thousand times worse.

"I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do.
  And the country folks stare at me so;
And nobody dares to control me but you,
  Because I'm a lady, you know.

"Then servants are vulgar and I am genteel;
  So, really, 'tis out of the way,
To think that I should not be better a deal
  Than maids, and such people as they."

"Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied,
  "Belongs to no station or place;
And nothing's so vulgar as folly and pride,
  Though dressed in red slippers and lace.

"Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess
  Should teach them the poor to despise;
For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress,
  That the truest gentility lies."

"I won't be dressed, I won't, I won't!"
  Cried Peggy one morn to mamma.
"Very well, dear," was quietly said,
  "I'll teach you how silly you are."

Peggy then frowned and set her lips
  Expecting a kiss as of old,
But mother had gravely walked away,
  And Peggy was getting so cold.

The minutes passed, and Peggy sighed,
  For thoughts of her breakfast arose,
And "Mammy, dear," she loudly wept,
  While stamping her bare little toes.

Then mother came, and firmly said,
  "I'm taking you, dear, at your word;
'I won't be dressed—I won't, I won't!'
  Has many times lately been heard.

"So now to bed, my little maid,
  For you will not be dressed to-day;
Then Peggy will be taught to think
  Before acting in such a way."

Oh, for the tears that Peggy shed!
  But now every morn, I am told,
A wee young maid is quietly dressed,
  And is always as good as gold.

"Mamma! I see something
  Quite dark on the wall;—
It moves up and down,
  And it looks very strange!
Sometimes it is large,
  And sometimes it is small;
Pray, tell me what it is,
  And why does it change?"

"It is Mamma's shadow
  That puzzles you so,
And there is your own
  Close beside it, my love!
Now run round the room,
  It will go where you go;
It rests where you sit,
  When you rise it will move.

"These wonderful shadows
  Are caused by the light
From fire and from candles
  Upon us that falls;
If we were not here,
  All that place would be bright,
But light can't shine
  Through us to lighten the wall.

"And when you are out
  Some fine day in the sun,
I'll take you where shadows
  Of apple-trees lie;
And houses and cottages too—
  Every one
Repose on their shadows
  Beneath the bright sky.

"Now hold up your mouth,
  And give me a sweet kiss;
Our shadows kiss too!—
  Don't you see it quite plain?"
"O yes! and I thank you
  For telling me this,
I'll not be afraid
  Of a shadow again."

                  Mary Lundie

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
  And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home
  And bring their tails behind them.

Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,
  And dreamed she heard them bleating,
But when she awoke, 'twas all a joke—
  Alas! they still were fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,
  Determined for to find them;
She found them, indeed, bit it made her heart bleed,
  They'd left their tails behind them.

It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray
  Over the meadows hard by,
That there she espied their tails side by side,
  All hung on a tree to dry.

She heaved a sigh, and gave by-and-by
  Each careless sheep a banging;
And as for the rest, she thought it was best
Just to leave their tails a-hanging.

Mary had a little lamb
  Whose fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went
  That Lamb it would not go;

So Mary took that little Lamb
  And put it on the spit,
And soon it was so nicely done
  She ate it every bit.

Pemmy was a pretty girl,
  But Fanny was a better;
Pemmy look'd like any churl,
  When little Fanny let her.

Pemmy had a pretty nose,
  But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy oft would come to blows,
  But Fanny would not let her.

Pemmy had a pretty song,
  But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy would sing all day long,
  But Fanny would not let her.

I had a little husband,
  No bigger than my thumb;
I put him in a pint pot,
  And there I bid him drum.

I bought a little horse,
  That galloped up and down;
I bridled him, and saddled him,
  And sent him out of town.

I gave him some garters,
  To garter up his hose,
And a little handkerchief,
  To wipe his pretty nose.

Now children dear, you all come near
And do not make a noise;
But listen here, just take and clear
That desk of all those toys.

For now I'm Governess you'll find,
That its myself will make you mind;
So Alice Brown you do your sum,
And Betty Snooks don't look so glum.

And Sarah White sit down at once,
And Susan Black you are a dunce,
And Annie Grey you needn't think
I didn't see you spill the ink.

And find your thimble Maggie More,
And mind your sewing Jennie Shore;
And Linda Cole you know 'tis wrong
To make a stitch two inches long.

And Bridget Mace don't make that face;
And Norah Finn keep your tongue in.
Don't be a Tom-boy Emma Pyke,
You really must act lady-like.

Now I want all good children in my school,
Don't want a single dunce, bad girl or fool,
So I will kindly ask you to be brave,
And try to very, very well behave.

Yes all be good and learn your lessons well,
And then I'll ring the little bell to tell
That school is over for the day,
And you can all run out to play.

Little Nellie Nipkin, brisk, and clean, and neat,
Keeps a little baby-school in the village street;
Teaches little pupils all that she can find,
And keeps a little birch that teaches them to mind.

Dingty diddledy, My mamma's maid,
She stole oranges, I'm afraid;
Some in her pockets, some in her sleeve,
She stole oranges, I believe.

I have a little doll, I take care of her clothes;
She has soft flaxen hair, and her name is Rose.
She has pretty blue eyes, and a very small nose,
And a funny little mouth, and her name is Rose.

As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks
  Were walking out one Sunday,
Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,
  "To-morrow will be Monday."

Little Betty Blue, lost her left shoe,
  What can little Betty do?
Give her another, to match the other,
  And then she may walk in two.

Cross patch, draw the latch,
  Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup, and drink it up,
  Then call your neighbours in.

Hinx, minx! the old witch winks,
  The fat begins to fry;
There's nobody at home but jumping Joan,
  Father, mother, and I.

Doodle, doodle, doo,
The Princess lost her shoe;
  Her highness hopp'd
  The fiddler stopp'd
Not knowing what to do.

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."

Mary, Kate, and Maria went down as agreed,
To the hutch in the garden, the rabbits to feed;
There was the mother, a steady old bunny,
Moving her nose in a manner so funny.

A young rabbit also, tho' seeming to dose,
Kept munching his breakfast and moving his nose;
Mary, Kate, and Maria gave the rabbits some food,
And lovingly stroked them because they were good.

One ugly trick has often spoiled
  The sweetest and the best;
Matilda, though a pleasant child,
  One ugly trick possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid
  To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you did
  But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch—
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandma went out one day,
  And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay
  Too near the little maid;
"Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on,
As soon as grandmamma is gone,"

Forthwith she placed upon her nose
  The glasses large and wide;
And looking round, as I suppose,
  The snuff box she too spied:
"Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I'll open it." said little Matt.

"I know grandmamma would say,
  'Don't meddle with it, dear;'
But then she's far enough away,
  And no one else is near;
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?"

So thumb and finger went to work
  To move the stubborn lid;
And presently a mighty jerk
  The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case,
  The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside,
  A dismal sight presented;
In vain, as bitterly she cried,
  Her folly she repented.
In vain she ran about for ease;
She could do nothing now but sneeze.

She dashed the spectacles away,
  To wipe her tingling eyes;
And as in twenty bits they lay,
  Her grandmamma she spies.
"Heyday! and what's the matter now?"
Says grandmamma, with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain,
  And tingling still and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain
  From meddling evermore.
And 'tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.

"Oh! Lucy! Fanny! Make haste here!
Mamma will be so vexed, I fear,
  For I've upset the ink!
See, on my frock and pinafore,
Such great black stains! And there are more
  Upon my socks, I think."

And Lucy cries, with open eyes,
And hands extended in surprise,
  "Oh, naughty Mary Ann,
Those stains can never be washed out;
Whatever have you been about?
  Look at her, sister Fan!"

Mamma comes in: "Heyday! what's this?
Why, Mary Ann, I told you, Miss,
  The inkstand ne'er to move;
And little girls who won't obey,
And mind each word their parents say,
  Good people ne'er will love."

A naughty girl had got no toy,
  And didn't know what to do,
So she rumpled her frock
And tore her sock,
  And tried to eat her shoe.

  Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside,
  Was known as a taster, far and wide;
Picking and licking, spying and prying,
Each bottle and dish with her fingers trying.
Dangerous practice! dreadful little fact is!
Once almost poisoned, and very near dying.
  Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside,
  Has got some poison in paper tied;
Harmless she deems it, yes, she must taste,
Like sugar seems it, ah! but 'tis paste.
Rat's-bane, the mixture. Oh! woe the day!
Run for the doctor, bid him not stay.
Dreadful her anguish—nearly she died,
Did little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside.

Four naughty little children thought
  Some jam they'd try and steal;
But see how nicely they were caught
  With a crash that made them squeal.

Their mother who was just next door,
  And heard the horrid noise,
Came in and shook those naughty girls,
  And whipped those naughty boys.

Her sister would come to the bedside and call,
  "Do you mean to sleep here all the day?"
I saw Kitty Miles up two hours ago,
  A-washing and working away.

"The water is boiling, the table is spread,
  Your father is just at the door;
If you are not quick, we shall eat all the bread,
  And you will not find any more."

Then Sally sat up and half opened her eyes,
  And gave both a grunt and a groan;
And yawning she said, in a quarrelsome voice,
  "I wish you would let me alone."

But though she was lazy, she always could eat,
  And wished for a plentiful share,
So tumbled her clothes on, and smeared her white face,
  Forgetting her hands and her hair.

Her frock was all crumpled and twisted away,
  Her hair was entangled and wild,
Her stockings were down and her shoes were untied,
  She looked a most slovenly child.

She sauntered about till the old village clock
  Had sounded and then died away,
Before she put on her torn bonnet and went
  To school without further delay.

But soon as she came to the little cake shop,
  She loitered with lingering eyes,
Just wishing that she had a penny to spend,
  For one of the pretty jam pies.

Again she went on, and she loitered again
  In the same foolish way as before,
And the clock in the school was just warning for ten,
  As she lifted the latch of the door.

The governess frowned as she went to her place,
  She had often so spoken in vain,
And now only said, with a sorrowful sigh,
  "There's Sally the latest again!"

She hated her reading, and never would write,
  She neither could cypher nor sew,
And little girls whispered, "We never will be
  So silly as Miss Sally Slow."

I tell you of a little girl, who would herself have been,
  As pretty a young lady as ever could be seen,
But that about her little head she had no cleanly care.
  And never, never could be made to brush and comb her hair.

The school was closed one afternoon,
  And all the girls were gone;
Some walked away in company,
  And some walked on alone.

Some plucked the flowers upon the banks,
  Some chatted very fast,
And some were talking secretly,
  And whispered as you passed.

And if, perchance, a girl came near,
  Then one of these would say,
"Don't listen to our secrets, Miss,
  You'll please to go away."

As Nelly White ran home from school,
  Her work-bag in her hand,
She chanced to pass near Lucy Bell,
  And her friend Susan Brand.

"We don't want you," said Lucy Bell,
  "You little tiresome chit;
Our secrets are not meant for you,
  You little tell-tale-tit."

Then both girls cried, "Tell-tale-tit,"
  And pushed her roughly by;
Poor Nelly said, "I'm no such thing,"
  And then began to cry.

Little Miss Jewel
Sat on a stool,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a little spider
Who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Jewel away.

Little girl, little girl, where have you been;
Gathering Roses to give to the Queen.
Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?
She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.

Little Betty Blue lost her pretty shoe;
What can Little Betty do?
Give her another, to match the other,
And then she can walk in two.

Last night when I was in bed,
  Such fun it seemed to me;
I dreamt that I was Grandmamma,
  And Grandmamma was me.

But she was such a tiny girl,
  And dressed in baby clothes;
And I thought I smacked her face, because
  She wouldn't blow her nose.

An I went walking up the street,
  And she ran by my side;
And because I walked too quick for her,
  My goodness, hoe she cried.

And after tea I washed her face;
  And when her prayers were said,
I blew the candle out, and left
  Poor Grandmamma in bed.