  Sing a song, a brand new song: “Sing a song of six-pence, A pock-et full of rye.” John and Jim-my both picked some, So they could have a pie. And when they’d filled their pock-ets full, They found some cun-ning lit-tle birds, To put in-to the pie. Six pret-ty lit-tle hid-den nests, Down in the yel-low rye, Held four-and-twen-ty ba-by birds, E-nough to fill the pie. They set them all with-in the dish, Lined with a crust of rye; But soon the four-and-twen-ty birds Cried out in-side the pie. Then Jim-my turned and looked at John, two children feeding birds And John took up the pie, And back the lit-tle lad-dies went In-to the field of rye. The moth-er bird flew up and shrieked, “O, have you baked that pie? How can you bring the cru-el dish, And eat it in the rye!” John— And soon they ate the pie; The birds flew out and found their nests Down in the yel-low rye. |
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