Mother Goose: My Maid Mary
MY MAID MARY
My maid Mary she minds the dairy,
While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn;
Gaily run the reel and the little spinning wheel,
While I am singing and mowing my corn.
Posts tagged ‘The Real Mother Goose’
Mother Goose: The Man of Bombay
THE MAN OF BOMBAY
There was a fat man of Bombay,
Who was smoking one sunshiny day;
When a bird called a snipe
Flew away with his pipe,
Which vexed the fat man of Bombay
Mother Goose: Hark! Hark!
HARK! HARK!
Hark, hark! the dogs do bark!
Beggars are coming to town:
Some in jags, and some in rags,
And some in velvet gown.
Mother Goose: My Love
MY LOVE
Saw ye aught of my love a-coming from the market?
A peck of meal upon her back,
A baby in her basket;
Saw ye aught of my love a-coming from the market?
Mother Goose: The Man in the Moon
THE MAN IN THE MOON
The Man in the Moon came tumbling down,
And asked the way to Norwich;
He went by the south, and burnt his mouth
With eating cold pease porridge.
Mother Goose: The Little Moppet
THE LITTLE MOPPET
I had a little moppet,
I put it in my pocket,
And fed it with corn and hay.
There came a proud beggar.
And swore he should have her;
And stole my little moppet away.
Mother Goose: Bobby Snooks
BOBBY SNOOKS
Little Bobby Snooks was fond of his books,
And loved by his usher and master;
But naughty Jack Spry, he got a black eye,
And carries his nose in a plaster.
Mother Goose: Little Jenny Wren
LITTLE JENNY WREN
Little Jenny Wren fell sick,
Upon a time;
In came Robin Redbreast
And brought her cake and wine.
“Eat well of my cake, Jenny,
Drink well of my wine.”
“Thank you, Robin, kindly,
You shall be mine.”
Jenny she got well,
And stood upon her feet,
And told Robin plainly
She loved him not a bit.
Robin being angry,
Hopped upon a twig,
Saying, “Out upon you! Fie upon you!
Bold-faced jig!”
Mother Goose: The Little Bird
THE LITTLE BIRD
Once I saw a little bird
Come hop, hop, hop;
So I cried, “Little bird,
Will you stop, stop, stop?”
And was going to the window
To say, “How do you do?”
But he shook his little tail,
And far away he flew.
Mother Goose: Saturday, Saturday
SATURDAY, SUNDAY
On Saturday night
Shall be all my care
To powder my locks
And curl my hair.
On Sunday morning
My love will come in.
When he will marry me
With a gold ring.
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