Chapter 3 BABY'S JOURNEYS

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,

To see an old lady upon a white horse,

Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes.

She shall have music wherever she goes.

This is the way the ladies ride;

Tri, tre, tre, tree,

Tri, tre, tre, tree!

This is the way the ladies ride,

Tri, tre, tre, tre, tri-tre-tre-tree!

This is the way the gentlemen ride;

Gallop-a-trot,

Gallop-a-trot!

This is the way the gentlemen ride,

Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!

This is the way the farmers ride;

Hobbledy-hoy,

Hobbledy-hoy!

This is the way the farmers ride,

Hobbledy, hobbledy-hoy!

Ride, baby, ride,

Pretty baby shall ride,

And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side,

And a little pussy-cat tied to the other,

And away she shall ride

To see her grandmother,

To see her grandmother,

To see her grandmother in London town.

See-saw sacradown,

Which is the way to London town?

One foot up, the other foot down,

That is the way to London town.

To market, to market,

To buy a plum bun;

Home again, home again,

Market is done.

Dance, little baby, dance up high,

Never mind, baby, mother is by;

Crow and caper, caper and crow,

There, little baby, there you go;

Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,

Backwards and forwards, round and round;

Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,

With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!

A farmer went trotting

Upon his gray mare;

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

With his daughter behind him,

So rosy and fair;

Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

A raven cried "Croak";

And they all tumbled down;

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

The mare broke her knees,

And the farmer his crown;

Lumpety, lumpety, lump.

The mischievous raven

Flew laughing away;

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

And vowed he would serve them

The same the next day;

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

Hey, my kitten, my kitten,

And hey, my kitten, my deary!

Such a sweet pet as this

Was neither far nor neary.

Here we go up, up, up,

And here we go down, down, downy;

And here we go backwards and forwards,

And here we go round, round, roundy.

Hey diddle, dinkety, poppety, pet,

The merchants of London they wear scarlet;

Silk in the collar and gold in the hem,

So merrily march the merchantmen.

Rhymes About a Little Woman

This is the way the ladies ride-

Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!

This is the way the gentlemen ride-

Sitting astride, sitting astride!

This is the way the grandmothers ride-

Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!

This is the way the babykins ride-

Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!

This is the way when they are late,

They all fly over a five-barred gate.

William Canton.

Every evening Baby goes

Trot, trot, to town-

Across the river, through the fields,

Up hill and down.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,

Up hill and down,

To buy a feather for her hat,

To buy a woolen gown.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;

The birds fly down, alack!

"You cannot have our feathers, dear,"

They say; "so please trot back."

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;

The lambs come bleating near.

"You cannot have our wool," they say;

"But we are sorry, dear."

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,

Trot, trot, to town.

She buys a red rose for her hat,

She buys a cotton gown.

Mary F. Butts.

* * *