Who kill'd Cock Robin?

I, said the sparrow,

With my bow and arrow,

I kill'd Cock Robin.

Who see him die?

I, said the fly,

With my little eye,

And I see him die.

Who catch'd his blood?

I, said the fish,

With my little dish,

And I catch'd his blood.

Who made his shroud?

I, said the beadle,

With my little needle,

And I made his shroud.

Who shall dig his grave?

I, said the owl,

With my spade and showl, [42]

And I'll dig his grave.

Who'll be the parson?

I, said the rook,

With my little book,

And I'll be the parson.

Who'll be the clerk?

I, said the lark,

If 'tis not in the dark,

And I'll be the clerk.

Who'll carry him to the grave?

I, said the kite,

If 'tis not in the night,

And I'll carry him to his grave.

Who'll carry the link?

I, said the linnet,

I'll fetch it in a minute,

And I'll carry the link.

Who'll be chief mourner?

I, said the dove,

I mourn for my love,

And I'll be chief mourner.

Who'll bear the pall?

We, said the wren,

Both the cock and the hen,

And we'll bear the pall.

Who'll sing a psalm?

I, said the thrush,

As she sat in a bush,

And I'll sing a psalm.

And who'll toll the bell?

I, said the bull,

Because I can pull;

And so, Cock Robin, farewell!

All the birds in the air

Fell to sighing and sobbing,

When they heard the bell toll

For poor Cock Robin!

The above version of this widely-extended poem is taken from a copy printed many years ago in Aldermary Churchyard, entitled, "Cock Robin, a pretty gilded toy for either girl or boy, suited to children of all ages," 18mo. It is reprinted even at the present day with a few immaterial variations.

In Eccardi Historia Studii Etymologici, 8vo. Han. 1711, p. 269, is an old Wendic nursery ballad of a somewhat similar character. Perhaps the first verse will be sufficient to give the reader an idea of its composition.

Katy mÊs Ninka beyt?

Teelka mÊs Ninka beyt:

Teelka rÎtzi

Wapakka neimo ka dwemo:

Gos giss wiltge grÎsna Sena,

Nemik Ninka beyt;

Gos nemik Ninka beyt.

Who, who, the bride will be?

The owl she the bride shall be.

The owl quoth,

Again to them both,

I am sure a grim ladye;

Not I the bride can be,

I not the bride can be!