DXXXIV.

Riddle me, riddle me, ree, A hawk sate upon a tree; And he says to himself, says he, Oh dear! what a fine bird I be.

DXXXV. [Bird boy's song.]

Eat, Birds, eat, and make no waste, I lie here and make no haste; If my master chance to come, You must fly, and I must run.

Pussy cat Mole, Jump'd over a coal, And in her best petticoat burnt a great hole. Poor pussy's weeping, she'll have no more milk, Until her best petticoat's mended with silk.

As I went to Bonner, I met a pig Without a wig, Upon my word and honour.

DXXXVIII.

There was a little one-eyed gunner Who kill'd all the birds that died last summer.