Nursery Rhymes and Poems

“Where are you going to, my pretty maid?”
“I’m going a-milking, sir,” she said.
“May I go with you, my pretty maid?”
“You’re kindly welcome, sir,” she said.
“What is your father, my pretty maid?”
“My father’s a farmer, sir,” she said.
“What is your fortune, my pretty maid?”
“My face is my fortune, sir,” she said.
“Then I can’t marry you, my [...]

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail:
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit to-who.
A merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s [...]

When I was a little boy,
I had but little wit;
It is some time ago,
And I’ve no more yet.
Nor ever, ever shall,
Until that I die;
For the longer I live
The more fool am I.

When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue:
And lady-smocks all silver white,
Do paint the meadow with delight.
The cuckoo then on every tree,
Mocks married men, for this sings he,
Cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Appeasing to a married ear.

When clouds appear
Like rocks and towers,
The earth’s refreshed
By frequent showers.

Once there was a little boy,
He lives in his skin;
When he pops out,
You may pop in.

The wheels on the bus go
Round and round, round and round,
Round and round.
The wheels on the bus go
Round and round,
All through the town.
The wipers on the bus go
Swish, swish, swish,
Swish, swish, swish,
Swish, swish, swish.
The wipers on the bus go
Swish, swish, swish,
All through the town.
The horn on the bus goes
Beep, beep, beep,
Beep, beep, beep,
Beep, beep, beep.
The [...]

What’s your name?
Pudden Tame.
What’s your other?
Bread and Butter.
Where do you live?
In a sieve.
What’s your number?
Cucumber.

With the first pale glimmer,
Of the morning red,
Polly woke delighted
And flew out of bed.
To the door she hurried,
Never stopped for clothes,
Though Jack Frost’s cold fingers
Nipt her little toes.
There it hung! the stocking,
Long and blue and full;
Down it quickly tumbled
With a hasty pull.
Back she capered, laughing,
Happy little Polly;
For from out the stocking
Stared a splendid dolly!
Next, what [...]

The little birds are singing
Above their speckled eggs,
The daddy long-legs talks about
His children’s lovely legs.
The red cow thinks her little calf
The best that there can be,
And my papa and my mamma
Are very proud of me!
And yet I might have been a bird,
And slept within a nest,
Or been a daddy-long-legs,
With scarcely any chest.
Or been a little [...]