Sing A Song Of Sixpence
Sing
a
song
of
sixpence,
A
pocket
full
of
rye,
Four
and
twenty
black-birds,
Baked
in
a
pie
When
the
pie
was
open'd
The
birds
began
to
sing
Was'nt
that
a
dainty
dish
To
set
before
the
King?
The
King
was
in
his
counting-house,
Counting
out
his
money.
The
Queen
was
in
the
parlour,
Eating
bread
and
honey.
The
maid
was
in
the
garden,
Hanging
out
the
clothes;
There
came
a
little
blackbird,
And
nipp'd
off
her
nose.
Walter
Crane
