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Old Mother Hubbard

49

That tossed the dog

That worried the cat

That killed the rat

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cock that crowed in the morn
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn
That married the man all tattered and torn
That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn
That tossed the dog

That worried the cat

That killed the rat

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing his corn

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn
That married the man all tattered and torn
That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn
That tossed the dog

That worried the cat

That killed the rat

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

OLD MOTHER HUBBARD

OLD Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard,

To get her poor dog a bone:

But when she got there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker's

To buy him some bread,
But when she came back

The poor dog was dead.

She went to the joiner's

To buy him a coffin, But when she came back

The poor dog was laughing.

She took a clean dish

To get him some tripe,
But when she came back
He was smoking a pipe.

She went to the fishmonger's
To buy him some fish,
But when she came back
He was licking the dish.

She went to the ale-house
To get him some beer,
But when she came back
The dog sat in a chair.

She went to the tavern

For white wine and red,

But when she came back

The dog stood on his head.

She went to the hatter's

To buy him a hat,

But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.

She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig,
But when she came back

He was dancing a jig.

She went to the fruiterer's
To buy him some fruit,
But when she came back
He was playing the flute.

She went to the tailor's
To buy him a coat,
But when she came back

He was riding a goat.

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Who'll make his shroud?

"I," said the Beetle,

"With my thread and needle,

I'll make his shroud."

Who'll dig his grave?

"I," said the Owl,

"With my spade and trowel,

I'll dig his grave."

Who'll be the parson?

"I," said the Rook, "With my little book. I'll be the parson."

Who'll be the clerk?

"I," said the Lark,

"I'll say Amen in the dark;

I'll be the clerk."

Who'll be chief mourner? "I," said the Dove,

"I mourn for my love; I'll be chief mourner."

Who'll bear the torch?
"I," said the Linnet,
"I'll come in a minute,
I'll bear the torch."

Who'll sing his dirge?

"I," said the thrush, "As I sing in the bush I'll sing his dirge."

Who'll bear the pall?

"We," said the Wren,

Both the Cock and the Hen;

"We'll bear the pall."

Who'll carry his coffin?

"I," said the Kite, "If it be in the night, I'll carry his coffin."

Baby-land

Who'll toll the bell?

"I," said the Bull,
"Because I can pull,
I'll toll the bell."

All the birds of the air

Fell to sighing and sobbing
When they heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.

BABY-LAND

"How many miles to Baby-land?"

"Any one can tell;

Up one flight,

To the right;

Please to ring the bell."

"What can you see in Baby-land?”

"Little folks in white

Downy heads,

Cradle-beds,

Faces pure and bright!"

"What do they do in Baby-land?"

"Dream and wake and play,

Laugh and crow,

Shout and grow;

Jolly times have they!"

"What do they say in Baby-land?"

"Why, the oddest things;

Might as well

Try to tell

What a birdie sings!"

"Who is the Queen of Baby-land?"

"Mother, kind and sweet;

And her love,

Born above,

Guides the little feet."

53

George Cooper [1840

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