Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
Silver bells, and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row.
Little girl, little girl, where have you been?
Gathering roses to give to the Queen.
Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?
She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.
Diddley, Diddley, Dumpty;
The cat ran up the plum tree.
I'll wager a crown
I'll fetch you down;
Sing, Diddledy, Diddledy, Dumpty.
I'll sing you a song
Though not very long
Yet I think it
As pretty as any.
Put your hand in your purse
You'll never be worse
An give the poor singer
A penny.
Rain, rain go away,
Come again some April day,
Little Johnny wants to play.
Little Betty Blue, lost her holiday shoe;
What can little Betty do?
Give her another to match the other,
And then she may walk in two.
Here am I, little jumping Joan;
When nobody's with me,
I am always alone.
Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday, married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday, worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday, buried on Sunday,
This is the end of Solomon Grundy.
The man in the moon came tumbling down,
And asked his way to Norwich,
He went by the south, and burnt his mouth
With supping cold pease-porridge.
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