H, where are you going,

My pretty maiden fair,

With your red rosy cheeks,

And your coal-black hair?

I'm going a-milking,

Kind sir, says she;

And it's dabbling in the dew,

Where you'll find me.

May I go with you,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.

Oh, you may go with me,

Kind sir, says she, &c.

If I should chance to kiss you,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.

The wind may take it off again,

Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is your father,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.

My father is a farmer,

Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is your mother,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.

My mother is a dairy-maid,

Kind sir, says she, &c.

Polly put the kettle on,

Polly put the kettle on,

Polly put the kettle on,

And let's drink tea.

Sukey take it off again,

Sukey take it off again,

Sukey take it off again,

They're all gone away.

One misty moisty morning

When cloudy was the weather,

There I met an old man

Clothed all in leather;

Clothed all in leather,

With cap under his chin,—

How do you do, and how do you do,

And how do you do again!

The fox and his wife they had a great strife,

They never eat mustard in all their whole life;

They eat their meat without fork or knife,

And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!

The fox jumped up on a moonlight night;

The stars they were shining, and all things bright;

Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night

For me to go through the town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to yonder stile,

He lifted his lugs and he listened a while!

Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile

From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to the farmer's gate,

Who should he see but the farmer's drake;

I love you well for your master's sake,

And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!

The gray goose she ran round the hay-stack,

Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat;

You'll grease my beard and ride on my back

From this into yonder wee town, e-ho!

Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed,

She opened the casement, and popped out her head;

Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead,

And the fox is gone through the town, oh!

Then the old man got up in his red cap,

And swore he would catch the fox in a trap;

But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip,

And ran thro' the town, the town, oh!

When he got to the top of the hill,

He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill,

For joy that he was safe

Thro' the town, oh!

When the fox came back to his den,

He had young ones both nine and ten,

"You're welcome home, daddy, you may go again,

If you bring us such nice meat

From the town, oh!"

Little Tom Dogget,

What dost thou mean,

To kill thy poor Colly

Now she's so lean?

Sing, oh poor Colly,

Colly, my cow,

For Colly will give me

No more milk now.

I had better have kept her,

'Till fatter she had been,

For now, I confess,

She's a little too lean.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

First in comes the tanner

With his sword by his side,

And he bids me five shillings

For my poor cow's hide.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the tallow-chandler,

Whose brains were but shallow,

And he bids me two-and-sixpence

For my cow's tallow.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the huntsman

So early in the morn,

He bids me a penny

For my cow's horn.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the tripe-woman,

So fine and so neat,

She bids me three half-pence

For my cow's feet.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the butcher,

That nimble-tongu'd youth,

Who said she was carrion,

But he spoke not the truth.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

The skin of my cowly

Was softer than silk,

And three times a-day

My poor cow would give milk.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

She every year

A fine calf did me bring,

Which fetcht me a pound,

For it came in the spring.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

But now I have kill'd her,

I can't her recall;

I will sell my poor Colly,

Hide, horns, and all.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

The butcher shall have her,

Though he gives but a pound,

And he knows in his heart

That my Colly was sound.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

And when he has bought her

Let him sell all together,

The flesh for to eat,

And the hide for leather.

Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.*

Says t'auld man tit oak tree,

Young and lusty was I when I kenn'd thee;

I was young and lusty, I was fair and clear,

Young and lusty was I mony a lang year;

But sair fail'd am I, sair fail'd now,

Sair fail'd am I sen I kenn'd thou.

You shall have an apple,

You shall have a plum,

You shall have a rattle-basket,

When your dad comes home.

Up at Piccadilly oh!

The coachman takes his stand,

And when he meets a pretty girl,

He takes her by the hand;

Whip away for ever oh!

Drive away so clever oh!

All the way to Bristol oh!

He drives her four-in-hand.

Sing a song of sixpence,

A bag full of rye;

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie;

When the pie was open'd,

The birds began to sing;

Was not that 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,

There came a little blackbird,

And snapt off her nose.

Jenny was so mad,

She didn't know what to do;

She put her finger in her ear,

And crackt it right in two.

Lend me thy mare to ride a mile?

She is lamed, leaping over a stile.

Alack! and I must keep the fair!

I'll give thee money for thy mare.

Oh, oh! say you so?

Money will make the mare to go!

About the bush, Willy,

About the bee-hive,

About the bush, Willy,

I'll meet thee alive.

Then to my ten shillings,

Add you but a groat,

I'll go to Newcastle,

And buy a new coat.

Five and five shillings,

Five and a crown;

Five and five shillings,

Will buy a new gown.

Five and five shillings,

Five and a groat;

Five and five shillings,

Will buy a new coat.

A pretty little girl in a round-eared cap

I met in the streets t'other day;

She gave me such a thump,

That my heart it went bump;

I thought I should have fainted away!

I thought I should have fainted away!

My father he died, but I can't tell you how,

He left me six horses to drive in my plough:

With my wing wang waddle oh,

Jack sing saddle oh,

Blowsey boys bubble oh,

Under the broom.

I sold my six horses and I bought me a cow;

I'd fain have made a fortune but did not know how:

With my, &c.

I sold my cow, and I bought me a calf;

I'd fain have made a fortune, but lost the best half:

With my, &c.

I sold my calf, and I bought me a cat;

A pretty thing she was, in my chimney corner sat:

With my, &c.

I sold my cat, and bought me a mouse;

He carried fire in his tail, and burnt down my house:

With my, &c.

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 dreamt she heard them bleating;

But when she awoke, she found it a joke,

For they still were all fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,

Determin'd for to find them;

She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,

For they'd left all their tails behind 'em.

Jeanie come tie my,

Jeanie come tie my,

Jeanie come tie my bonnie cravat;

I've tied it behind,

I've tied it before,

And I've tied it so often, I'll tie it no more.

Trip upon trenchers, and dance upon dishes,

My mother sent me for some barm, some barm;

She bid me tread lightly, and come again quickly,

For fear the young men should do me some harm.

Yet didn't you see, yet didn't you see,

What naughty tricks they put upon me:

They broke my pitcher,

And spilt the water,

And huff'd my mother,

And chid her daughter,

And kiss'd my sister instead of me.

Some up, and some down,

There's players in the town,

You wot well who they be;

The sun doth arise,

To three companies,

One, two, three, four, make wee!

Besides we that travel,

With pumps full of gravel,

Made all of such running leather:

That once in a week,

New masters we seek,

And never can hold together.

Johnny shall have a new bonnet,

And Johnny shall go to the fair,

And Johnny shall have a blue ribbon

To tie up his bonny brown hair.

As I was walking o'er little Moorfields,

I saw St. Paul's a running on wheels,

With a fee, fo, fum.

Then for further frolics I'll go to France.

While Jack shall sing and his wife shall dance,

With a fee, fo fum.

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will poor Robin do then?

Poor thing!

He'll sit in a barn,

And to keep himself warm,

Will hide his head under his wing.

Poor thing!

The white dove sat on the castle wall,

I bend my bow and shoot her I shall;

I put her in my glove both feathers and all;

I laid my bridle upon the shelf,

If you will any more, sing it yourself.

Elsie Marley is grown so fine,

She won't get up to serve the swine,

But lies in bed till eight or nine,

And surely she does take her time.

And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?

The wife who sells the barley, honey;

She won't get up to serve her swine,

And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?

London bridge is broken down,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

London bridge is broken down,

With a gay lady.

How shall we build it up again?

Dance o'er my lady lee;

How shall we build it up again?

With a gay lady.

Silver and gold will be stole away,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Silver and gold will be stole away,

With a gay lady.

Build it up again with iron and steel,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Build it up with iron and steel,

With a gay lady.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Iron and steel will bend and bow,

With a gay lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Build it up with wood and clay,

With a gay lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Wood and clay will wash away,

With a gay lady.

Build it up with stone so strong,

Dance o'er my lady lee;

Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,

With a gay lady.

Old Father of the Pye,

I cannot sing, my lips are dry;

But when my lips are very well wet,

Then I can sing with the Heigh go Bet!

Tom he was a piper's son,

He learn'd to play when he was young,

But all the tunes that he could play,

Was, "Over the hills and far away;"

Over the hills, and a great way off,

And the wind will blow my top-knot off.

Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise,

That he pleas'd both the girls and boys,

And they stopp'd to hear him play,

"Over the hills and far away."

Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,

That those who heard him could never keep still;

Whenever they heard they began for to dance,

Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.

As Dolly was milking her cow one day,

Tom took out his pipe and began for to play;

So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round,"

Till the pail was broke, and the milk ran on the ground.

He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs,

He used his pipe, and she used her legs;

She danced about till the eggs were all broke,

She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke.

He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass,

Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass;

He took out his pipe and played them a tune,

And the jackass's load was lightened full soon.

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.

Of all the gay birds that e'er I did see,

The owl is the fairest by far to me;

For all the day long she sits on a tree,

And when the night comes away flies she.

I love sixpence, pretty little sixpence,

I love sixpence better than my life;

I spent a penny of it, I spent another,

And took fourpence home to my wife.

Oh, my little fourpence, pretty little fourpence,

I love fourpence better than my life;

I spent a penny of it, I spent another,

And I took twopence home to my wife.

Oh, my little twopence, my pretty little twopence,

I love twopence better than my life;

I spent a penny of it, I spent another,

And I took nothing home to my wife.

Oh, my little nothing, my pretty little nothing,

What will nothing buy for my wife?

I have nothing, I spend nothing,

I love nothing better than my wife.

Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring,

Merry was myself, and merry could I sing;

With a merry ding-dong, happy, gay, and free,

And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!

Waddle goes your gait, and hollow are your hose,

Noddle goes your pate, and purple is your nose;

Merry is your sing-song, happy, gay, and free,

With a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!

Merry have we met, and merry have we been,

Merry let us part, and merry meet again;

With our merry sing-song, happy, gay, and free,

And a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!

My maid Mary

She minds her dairy,

While I go a hoing and mowing each morn,

Merrily run the reel

And the little spinning wheel

Whilst I am singing and mowing my corn.

Hot-cross Buns!

Hot-cross Buns!

One a penny, two a penny

Hot-cross Buns!

Hot-cross Buns!

Hot-cross Buns!

If ye have no daughters,

Give them to your sons.

Wooley Foster has gone to sea,

With silver buckles at his knee,

When he comes back he'll marry me,—

Bonny Wooley Foster!

Wooley Foster has a cow,

Black and white about the mow,

Open the gates and let her through,

Wooley Foster's ain cow!

Wooley Foster has a hen,

Cockle button, cockle ben,

She lay eggs for gentlemen,

But none for Wooley Foster!