Children's Rhymes, Children's Games, Children's Songs, Children's Stories: A Book for Bairns and Big Folk

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Gardner, 1904 - Juvenile Nonfiction - 287 pages

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Contents

I
9
II
38
III
55
IV
101
V
143
VI
163
VII
182

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Page 113 - That waked the priest all shaven and shorn That married the man all tattered and torn That kissed the maiden all forlorn That milked the cow with the crumpled horn That tossed the dog That worried the cat That killed the rat That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
Page 27 - There was an old woman who lived In a shoe, She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Page 24 - Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon!
Page 28 - TAFFY was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief; Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef: I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not at home ; Taffy came to my house and stole a marrowbone.
Page 25 - Little Polly Flinders Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty little toes; Her mother came and caught her And whipped her little daughter For spoiling her nice new clothes. That stealing doesn't pay is fittingly illustrated in: Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig and away he run!
Page 31 - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the bed that I lie on. Four corners to my bed, Four angels round my head; One to watch and one to pray And two to bear my soul away.
Page 12 - Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, Eating his Christmas pie. He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum, And said, " What a good boy am I ! " HEY, DIDDLE, DIDDLE Hey, diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon.
Page 101 - Who killed Cock Robin ? I, said the Sparrow, With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin. Who saw him die ? I, said the Fly, With my little eye, I saw him die.
Page 24 - BAA BAA, BLACK SHEEP. BAA Baa, Black Sheep, Have you any wool ? Yes, Sir, yes, Sir, three bags full.
Page 12 - Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock, When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, And down will come baby, cradle and all.

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