Sing a song of sixpence A pocket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie When the pie was opened A shrivelled blackbird spat "Now come on lads a joke's a joke, What rotten sod did that?"
Rockabye baby in the treetop When the wind blows the cradle will rock I was that baby and what bothers me Is why mum and dad stuck me up a tree.