DCXXVII.

To market, to market, a gallop, a trot, To buy some meat to put in the pot; Threepence a quarter, a groat a side, If it hadn't been kill'd, it must have died.

DCXXVIII.

Come, let's to bed, Says Sleepy-head; Tarry a while, says Slow: Put on the pot, Says Greedy-gut, Let's sup before we go.

How many days has my baby to play? Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town, In a yellow petticoat, and a green gown.

Little Tom Tucker Sings for his supper; What shall he eat? White bread and butter. How shall he cut it Without e'er a knife? How will he be married Without e'er a wife?