How many days has my baby to play?

Saturday, Sunday, Monday,

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,

Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town,

In a yellow petticoat, and a green gown.

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?

I can weave diaper thick, thick, thick,

And I can weave diaper thin,

I can weave diaper out of doors

And I can weave diaper in.

The man in the moon drinks claret,

But he is a dull Jack-a-Dandy;

Would he know a sheep's head from a carrot,

He should learn to drink cider and brandy.

Darby and Joan were dress'd in black,

Sword and buckle behind their back;

Foot for foot, and knee for knee,

Turn about Darby's company.

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.

If all the seas were one sea,

What a great sea that would be!

And if all the trees were one tree,

What a great tree that would be!

And if all the axes were one axe,

What a great axe that would be!

And if all the men were one man,

What a great man he would be!

And if the great man took the great axe,

And cut down the great tree,

And let it fall into the great sea,

What a splish splash that would be!

I had a little moppet,

I put it in my pocket,

And fed it with corn and hay;

Then came a proud beggar,

And swore he would have her,

And stole little moppet away.

The barber shaved the mason,

As I suppose

Cut off his nose,

And popp'd it in a basin.

Little Tommy Tacket,

Sits upon his cracket;

Half a yard of cloth will make him coat and jacket;

Make him coat and jacket,

Trowsers to the knee.

And if you will not have him, you may let him be.

Peg, peg, with a wooden leg,

Her father was a miller:

He tossed the dumpling at her head,

And said he could not kill her.

Parson Darby wore a black gown,

And every button cost half-a-crown;

From port to port, and toe to toe,

Turn the ship and away we go!

When Jacky's a very good boy,

He shall have cakes and a custard;

But when he does nothing but cry,

He shall have nothing but mustard.

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.

The quaker's wife got up to bake,

Her children all about her,

She gave them every one a cake,

And the miller wants his moulter.

Wash, hands, wash,

Daddy's gone to plough,

If you want your hands wash'd,

Have them wash'd now.

My little old man and I fell out,

I'll tell you what 'twas all about:

I had money, and he had none,

And that's the way the row begun.

Who comes here?

A grenadier.

What do you want?

A pot of beer.

Where is your money?

I've forgot.

Get you gone,

You drunken sot!

Go to bed, Tom!

Go to bed, Tom!

Drunk or sober,

Go to bed, Tom!

As I went over the water,

The water went over me,

I heard an old woman crying,

Will you buy some furmity?

High diddle doubt, my candle out,

My little maid is not at home:

Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog,

And fetch my little maid home.

Around the green gravel the grass grows green,

And all the pretty maids are plain to be seen;

Wash them with milk, and clothe them with silk,

And write their names with a pen and ink.

As I was going to sell my eggs,

I met a man with bandy legs,

Bandy legs and crooked toes,

I tripped up his heels, and he fell on his nose.

Old Sir Simon the king,

And young Sir Simon the 'squire,

And old Mrs. Hickabout

Kicked Mrs. Kickabout

Round about our coal fire!

A good child, a good child,

As I suppose you be,

Never laughed nor smiled

At the tickling of your knee.

Jacky, come give me thy fiddle

If ever thou mean to thrive;

Nay, I'll not give my fiddle,

To any man alive.

If I should give my fiddle,

They'll think that I'm gone mad,

For many a joyful day

My fiddle and I have had.

Blenky my nutty-cock,

Blenk him away;

My nutty-cock's never

Been blenk'd to-day.

What wi' carding and spinning on't wheel,

We've never had time to blenk nutty-cock weel;

But let to-morrow come ever so sune,

My nutty-cock it sall be blenk'd by nune.

To market, to market, to buy a plum-cake,

Back again, back again, baby is late;

To market, to market, to buy a plum-bun,

Back again, back again, market is done.

St. Thomas's-day is past and gone,

And Christmas is a-most a-come,

Maidens arise,

And make your pies,

And save poor tailor Bobby some.

How do you do, neighbour?

Neighbour, how do you do?

I am pretty well,

And how does Cousin Sue do?

She's pretty well,

And sends her duty to you,

So does bonnie Nell.

Good lack, how does she do?