Sing A Song Of Sixpence
Sing 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;Was not 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 parlor, Eating bread and honey.The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes;When down came a blackbird And snapped off her nose.