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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 the 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;
When down came a little bird
And snapped off her nose !
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