Chapter 7 NURSERY NOVELS

The Courtship, Merry Marriage, and Picnic Dinner of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren

It was a merry time

When Jenny Wren was young,

So neatly as she danced,

And so sweetly as she sung,

Robin Redbreast lost his heart:

He was a gallant bird;

He doft his hat to Jenny,

And thus to her he said:-

"My dearest Jenny Wren,

If you will but be mine,

You shall dine on cherry pie,

And drink nice currant wine.

I'll dress you like a Goldfinch,

Or like a Peacock gay;

So if you'll have me, Jenny,

Let us appoint the day."

Jenny blushed behind her fan,

And thus declared her mind:

"Then let it be to-morrow, Bob,

I take your offer kind-

Cherry pie is very good!

So is currant wine!

But I will wear my brown gown,

And never dress too fine."

Robin rose up early

At the break of day;

He flew to Jenny Wren's house,

To sing a roundelay.

He met the Cock and Hen,

And bid the Cock declare,

This was his wedding-day

With Jenny Wren, the fair.

The Cock then blew his horn,

To let the neighbors know,

This was Robin's wedding-day,

And they might see the show.

And first came parson Rook,

With his spectacles and band,

And one of Mother Hubbard's books

He held within his hand.

Then followed him the Lark,

For he could sweetly sing,

And he was to be clerk

At Cock Robin's wedding.

He sung of Robin's love

For little Jenny Wren;

And when he came unto the end,

Then he began again.

Then came the bride and bridegroom;

Quite plainly was she dressed,

And blushed so much, her cheeks were

As red as Robin's breast.

But Robin cheered her up;

"My pretty Jen," said he,

"We're going to be married

And happy we shall be."

The Goldfinch came on next,

To give away the bride;

The Linnet, being bride's maid,

Walked by Jenny's side;

And, as she was a-walking,

She said, "Upon my word,

I think that your Cock Robin

Is a very pretty bird."

The Bulfinch walked by Robin,

And thus to him did say,

"Pray, mark, friend Robin Redbreast,

That Goldfinch, dressed so gay;

What though her gay apparel

Becomes her very well,

Yet Jenny's modest dress and look

Must bear away the bell."

The Blackbird and the Thrush,

And charming Nightingale,

Whose sweet jug sweetly echoes

Through every grove and dale;

The Sparrow and Tom Tit,

And many more, were there:

All came to see the wedding

Of Jenny Wren, the fair.

"O then," says parson Rook,

"Who gives this maid away?"

"I do," says the Goldfinch,

"And her fortune I will pay:

Here's a bag of grain of many sorts,

And other things beside;

Now happy be the bridegroom,

And happy be the bride!"

"And will you have her, Robin,

To be your wedded wife?"

"Yes, I will," says Robin,

"And love her all my life."

"And will you have him, Jenny,

Your husband now to be?"

"Yes, I will," says Jenny,

"And love him heartily."

Then on her finger fair

Cock Robin put the ring;

"You're married now," says Parson Rook,

While the Lark aloud did sing:

"Happy be the bridegroom,

And happy be the bride!

And may not man, nor bird, nor beast,

This happy pair divide."

The birds were asked to dine;

Not Jenny's friends alone,

But every pretty songster

That had Cock Robin known.

They had a cherry pie,

Beside some currant wine,

And every guest brought something,

That sumptuous they might dine.

Now they all sat or stood

To eat and to drink;

And every one said what

He happened to think;

They each took a bumper,

And drank to the pair:

Cock Robin, the bridegroom,

And Jenny Wren, the fair.

The dinner-things removed,

They all began to sing;

And soon they made the place

Near a mile round to ring.

The concert it was fine;

And every bird tried

Who best could sing for Robin

And Jenny Wren, the bride.

Then in came the Cuckoo,

And he made a great rout;

He caught hold of Jenny,

And pulled her about.

Cock Robin was angry,

And so was the Sparrow,

Who fetched in a hurry

His bow and his arrow.

His aim then he took,

But he took it not right;

His skill was not good,

Or he shot in a fright;

For the Cuckoo he missed,

But Cock Robin killed!-

And all the birds mourned

That his blood was so spilled,

The Death and Burial of Cock Robin

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."

Who caught his blood?

"I," said the Fish,

"With my little dish,

I caught his blood."

Who'll make his shroud?

"I," said the Beetle,

"With my thread and needle,

I'll make his shroud."

Who'll bear the torch?

"I," said the Linnet,

"I'll come in a minute,

I'll bear the torch."

Who'll be the clerk?

"I," said the Lark,

"I'll say Amen in the dark;

I'll be the clerk."

Who'll dig his grave?

"I," said the Owl,

"With my spade and trowel,

I'll dig his grave."

Who'll be the parson?

"I," said the Rook,

"With my little book,

I'll be the parson."

Who'll be chief mourner?

"I," said the Dove,

"I mourn for my love;

I'll be chief mourner."

Who'll sing his dirge?

"I," said the Thrush,

"As I sing in a bush,

I'll sing his dirge."

Who'll bear the pall?

"We," said the Wren,

Both the Cock and the Hen;

"We'll bear the pall."

Who'll carry his coffin?

"I," said the Kite,

"If it be in the night,

I'll carry his coffin."

Who'll toll the bell?

"I," said the Bull,

"Because I can pull,

I'll toll the bell."

All the birds of the air

Fell to sighing and sobbing

When they heard the bell toll

For poor Cock Robin.

My dear, do you know,

How a long time ago,

Two poor little children,

Whose names I don't know,

Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,

And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.

And when it was night,

So sad was their plight!

The sun it went down,

And the moon gave no light!

They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried,

And the poor little things, they lay down and died.

And when they were dead,

The robins so red,

Brought strawberry-leaves

And over them spread;

And all the day long,

They sung them this song:

"Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood!

Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?"

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,

All on a summer's day;

The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts,

And took them clean away.

The King of Hearts called for the tarts,

And beat the Knave full sore;

The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts,

And vowed he'd steal no more.

A little boy and a little girl

Lived in an alley;

Said the little boy to the little girl,

"Shall I, oh! shall I?"

Said the little girl to the little boy,

"What will you do?"

Said the little boy to the little girl,

"I will kiss you."

When good King Arthur ruled this land,

He was a goodly king;

He stole three pecks of barley-meal,

To make a bag-pudding.

A bag-pudding the king did make,

And stuff'd it well with plums:

And in it put great lumps of fat,

As big as my two thumbs.

The king and queen did eat thereof,

And noblemen beside;

And what they could not eat that night,

The queen next morning fried.

"Little maid, pretty maid, whither goest thou?"

"Down in the meadow to milk my cow."

"Shall I go with thee?" "No, not now;

When I send for thee, then come thou."

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,

His wife could eat no lean;

And so, betwixt them both, you see,

They licked the platter clean.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

Had a wife and couldn't keep her;

He put her in a pumpkin shell

And then he kept her very well.

The little priest of Felton,

The little priest of Felton,

He kill'd a mouse within his house,

And ne'er a one to help him.

Ding, dong, bell,

Pussy's in the well!

Who put her in?-

Little Tommy Lin.

Who pulled her out?-

Big John Strout.

What a naughty boy was that

To drown poor pussy-cat,

Who never did him any harm,

But kill'd the mice in his father's barn.

When I was a bachelor

I lived by myself;

And all the bread and cheese I got

I put upon the shelf.

The rats and the mice

They made such a strife,

I was forced to go to London

To buy me a wife.

The streets were so bad,

And the lanes were so narrow,

I was forced to bring my wife home

In a wheelbarrow.

The wheelbarrow broke,

And my wife had a fall,

Down came wheelbarrow,

Little wife and all.

I had a little husband,

No bigger than my thumb;

I put him in a pint-pot,

And there I bade him drum.

I bought a little horse,

That galloped up and down;

I bridled him, and saddled him,

And sent him out of town.

I gave him little garters,

To garter up his hose,

And a little handkerchief,

To wipe his little nose.

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye;

Four-and-twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie;

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing;

Was not that a dainty dish

To set before the King?

The King was in his counting-house,

Counting out his money;

The Queen was in the parlour,

Eating bread and honey;

The maid was in the garden

Hanging out the clothes;

When up came a blackbird,

And nipped off her nose.

Little Bo-peep, she lost her sheep,

And can't tell where to find them;

Leave them alone, and they'll come home,

And bring their tails behind them.

Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,

And dreamed she heard them bleating;

When she awoke she found it a joke,

For they still were all fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,

Determined for to find them;

She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,

For they'd left their tails behind them!

It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray,

Unto a meadow hard by-

There she espied their tails side by side,

All hung on a tree to dry.

She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,

And over the hillocks she raced;

And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,

That each tail should be properly placed.

There was a little man,

And he had a little gun,

And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;

He went to the brook,

And he saw a little duck,

And he shot it right through the head, head, head.

He carried it home,

To his good wife Joan,

And bid her make a fire for to bake, bake, bake,

To roast the little duck

He had shot in the brook,

And he'd go fetch her next the drake, drake, drake.

The drake had gone to sail,

With his nice curly tail,

The little man made it his mark, mark, mark.

But he let off his gun,

And he fired too soon,

So the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.

Three little kittens, they lost their mittens,

And they began to cry,

O mother dear,

We very much fear,

That we have lost our mittens.

Lost your mittens!

You naughty kittens!

Then you shall have no pie.

Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.

No, you shall have no pie.

Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.

The three little kittens, they found their mittens,

And they began to cry,

O mother dear,

See here, see here!

See! we have found our mittens.

Put on your mittens,

You silly kittens,

And you may have some pie.

Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r,

O let us have the pie.

Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r.

The three little kittens put on their mittens,

And soon ate up the pie;

O mother dear,

We greatly fear,

That we have soiled our mittens.

Soiled your mittens!

You naughty kittens!

Then they began to sigh,

Mee-ow; mee-ow, mee-ow.

Then they began to sigh,

Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.

The three little kittens they washed their mittens,

And hung them out to dry;

O mother dear,

Do you not hear,

That we have washed our mittens?

Washed your mittens!

O, you're good kittens.

But I smell a rat close by:

Hush! Hush! mee-ow, mee-ow.

We smell a rat close by,

Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is 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.

This is 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.

This is 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.

This is 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.

This is the cock that crowed in the morn,

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.

This is the farmer sowing his corn,

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,

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.

This is the key of the kingdom.

In that kingdom there is a city.

In that city there is a town.

In that town there is a street.

In that street there is a lane.

In that lane there is a yard.

In that yard there is a house.

In that house there is a room.

In that room there is a bed.

In that bed there is a basket.

In that basket there are some flowers.

Flowers in the basket, basket in the bed, bed in the room, etc., etc.

Tree on the Hill

On yonder hill there stands a tree;

Tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the tree there was a branch;

Branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the branch there was a nest;

Nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And in the nest there was an egg;

Egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And in the egg there was a bird;

Bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

And on the bird there was a feather;

Feather on the bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.

John Ball shot them all.

John Scott made the shot,

But John Ball shot them all.

John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot,

But John Ball shot them all.

John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Clint made the flint,

And John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

John Patch made the match,

And John Clint made the flint,

And John Puzzle made the muzzle,

And John Crowder made the powder,

And John Block made the stock,

And John Brammer made the rammer,

And John Wiming made the priming,

And John Scott made the shot;

But John Ball shot them all.

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