Little Bo Peep

Went fast to sleep;

Losing her sheep.

There were ninety and nine of these lambkins that fled

When poor, little Bo was asleep in her bed;

And when they returned they were mutton instead.

O, what a stew!

'Twixt me and yew

What could Bo do?

O! Jack and Jill

Went up the hill,

Their pail to fill.

The water was running: they didn't pursue,

But filled up their growler with Double X Brew,

And Jill, in a measure, was full, and Jack too.

Both had a thirst:

Jack's was the worst:

He tumbled first.

Horner boy Jack

Had the right knack;

Cornered the snack.

His fortune grew fast from that one Christmas plum;

Good old King Cole,

"Merry old Soul,"

Knew how to bowl.

No high-balls were spared at his nocturnal spread,

And the fumes of the liquor would strike in his head

Till, knocked off his pins, he was set up in bed.

Jackass or king

Will have his fling:

Naughty, Old Thing.

Old Lady Drew

Lived in a shoe:

Children there too.

Their home was too cramped for a dozen or more,

But others have suffered from tight shoes before,

So the latch-string was always hung out on the door.

To upper skies

Good old sole flies,

With all her ties.

The Drews and Jack Horner lived on the same street:

Jack gambled with Hymen and Drew Marguerite,

And love for his sole-mate affected his feet.

There ne'er was a "comeback" to poor Jack and Jill;

The King followed after them going "down hill,"

And Bo, left alone, is a sheepish maid still.