Denslow's
MOTHER
GOOSE
Denslow's
MOTHER
GOOSE
Being the old familiar rhymes and jingles of MOTHER GOOSE edited and
illustrated
by
W. W. Denslow.
1901
McClure, Phillips
& Company
Publishers
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT
1901
BY
William
Wallace
Denslow
This book is dedicated to
Ann Waters Denslow
with much love and gratitude
for her help in its making.
| Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall, |
| Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall; |
| All the king's horses, and all the king's men |
| Cannot put Humpty-Dumpty together again. |
| (an egg) |
| Mistress Mary, quite contrary |
| How does your garden grow? |
| With cockle-shells and silver bells, |
| And pretty maids all in a row. |
| Bye, baby bunting, |
| Daddy's gone a hunting, |
| He'll never get this rabbit's skin, |
| To wrap the baby bunting in. |
| Little Jack Horner |
| Sat in the corner, |
| Eating a Christmas pie; |
| He put in his thumb, |
| And he took out a plum, |
| And said, |
| "What a good boy am I!" |
| Old King Cole |
| Was a merry old soul, |
| And a merry old soul was he: |
| |
| He called for his pipe, |
| And he called for his bowl, |
| And he called for his fiddlers three. |
| |
| Every fiddler, he had a fiddle, |
| And a very fine fiddle had he; |
| Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers. |
| |
| Oh, there's none so rare, |
| As can compare |
| With King Cole and his fiddlers three. |
| Baa, baa, black sheep, |
| Have you any wool? |
| Yes, marry, have I, |
| Three bags full; |
| One for my master, |
| And one for my dame, |
| And one for the little boy |
| Who lives in the lane. |
| Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! |
| So I will, master, as fast as I can: |
| Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, and |
| Put in the oven for Tommy and me. |
| Great A, little a, |
| Bouncing B! |
| The cat's in the cupboard, |
| And she can't see. |
| To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, |
| Home again, home again, dancing a jig: |
| Ride to market to buy a fat hog, |
| Home again, home again, jiggety-jog. |
| I love little Pussy, her coat is so warm, |
| And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm. |
| I'll sit by the fire, and give her some food, |
| And Pussy will love me, because I am good. |
| Higglepy, Piggleby, My black hen, |
| She lays eggs For gentlemen; |
| Sometimes nine, And sometimes ten, |
| Higglepy, Piggleby, My black hen! |
| Hickety; dickety, dock, |
| The mouse ran up the clock; |
| The clock struck one, |
| Down the mouse ran, |
| Hickety, dickety, dock. |
| Hush-a-bye, baby, on on the tree top, |
| When the wind blows the cradle will rock; |
| When the bough bends it never can fall, |
| Safe is the baby, bough, cradle and all. |
| 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 with plenty of bread, |
| She kissed them all fondly and sent them to bed. |
| Poor old Robinson Crusoe! |
| Poor old Robinson Crusoe! |
| They made him a coat |
| Of an old nanny goat |
| I wonder how they could do so! |
| With a ring-a-ting tang, |
| And a ring-a-ting tang, |
| Poor old Robinson Crusoe! |
| Rain, rain, go away, |
| Come again another day; |
| Little Arthur wants to play. |
| The rose is red, |
| The violet's blue, |
| Sugar is sweet, |
| And so are you. |
| Little Boy Blue, come blow up your horn, |
| The sheep's in the meadow, the cow in the corn. |
| There was an old woman tossed up in a basket |
| Nineteen times as high as the moon; |
| Where she was going I couldn't but ask it, |
| For in her hand she carried a broom. |
| Old woman, old woman, old woman, quoth I, |
| O whither, O whither, O whither so high? |
| To brush the cobwebs off the sky! |
| Shall I go with thee? Aye, by-and bye. |
| Ride a cockhorse to Banbury-cross |
| To see an old lady upon a white horse, |
| Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, |
| And so she makes music wherever she goes. |
| 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. |
| Little Bo-peep has 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. |
| The north wind doth blow, |
| And we shall have snow, |
| And what will poor Robin do then? |
| Poor thing! |
| He'll sit in a barn, |
| And to keep himself warm, |
| Will hide his head under his wing, |
| Poor thing! |
| There was an old woman, and what do you think? |
| She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink: |
| Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet; |
| And yet this old woman could never be quiet. |
| Simple Simon met a pieman, |
| Going to the fair; |
| |
| Says Simple Simon to the pieman, |
| "Let me taste your ware." |
| Says the pieman to Simple Simon, |
| "Show me first your penny." |
| Says Simple Simon to the pieman, |
| "Indeed I have not any." |
| |
| Simple Simon went a-fishing |
| For to catch a whale: |
| All the water he had got |
| Was in his mother's pail. |
| Little Miss Muffet, |
| She sat on a tuffet, |
| There came a great spider, |
| Who sat down beside her, |
| And frightened Miss Muffet away. |
| Little Tom Tucker |
| Sings for his supper, |
| What shall he eat? |
| White bread and butter. |
| Mary had a little lamb, |
| Its fleece was white as snow; |
| And everywhere that Mary went, |
| The lamb was sure to go. |
| |
| He followed, her to school one day; |
| That was against the rule; |
| It made the children laugh and play |
| To see a lamb at school. |
| And so the teacher turned him out, |
| But still he lingered near, |
| And waited patiently about |
| Till Mary did appear. |
| |
| "What makes the lamb love Mary so?" |
| The eager children cry. |
| "Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know." |
| The teacher did reply. |
| A diller, a dollar, |
| A ten o' clock scholar, |
| What makes you come so soon? |
| You used to come at ten o'clock, |
| But now you come at noon. |
| I had a little hobby-horse, |
| And it was dapple grey; |
| Its head was made of pea-straw, |
| Its tail was made of hay. |
| |
| I sold it to an old woman |
| For a copper groat; |
| And I'll not sing my song again |
| Without a new coat. |
| Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater, |
| Had a wife, and couldn't keep her; |
| He put her in a pumpkin-shell. |
| And there he kept her very well. |
| Jack and Jill went up the hill, |
| To fetch a pail of water; |
| Jack fell down, and broke his crown. |
| And Jill came tumbling after. |
| The man in the moon, |
| Came down too soon, |
| To inquire his way to Norwich. |
| He went by the south, |
| And burnt his mouth |
| With eating cold pease porridge. |
| 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 after the spoon. |
| There was a fat man of Bombay, |
| Who was smoking one sunshiny day, |
| When a bird called a snipe, |
| Flew away with his pipe, |
| Which vexed the fat man of Bombay. |
| Hark, hark! |
| The dogs do bark, |
| Beggars are coming to town; |
| Some in tags, |
| Some in rags, |
| And some in velvet gowns. |
| Jack be nimble, |
| Jack be quick, |
| And Jack jump over the candle stick. |
| Three wise men of Gotham |
| Went to sea in a bowl, |
| And if the bowl had been stronger, |
| My song would have been longer. |
| Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John |
| Went to bed with his trousers on; |
| One shoe off, the other shoe on, |
| Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John. |
| Cock a doodle doo, |
| My dame has lost her shoe; |
| My master's lost his fiddle-stick, |
| And knows not what to do. |
| Polly, put the kettle on, |
| Polly, put the kettle on, |
| Polly, put the kettle on, |
| And let's drink tea. |
| |
| Sukey, take it off again, |
| Sukey, take it off again, |
| Sukey, take it off again, |
| They've all gone away. |
| The verses in this |
| book have been |
| hand-lettered by |
| FRED W. GOUDY. |
