A TREASURY OF STORIES, JINGLES AND RHYMES.

 

ING a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing,

Wasn’t that a dainty dish,
To set before the King ?

ISTRESS Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow ?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.

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