The Horseman

I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The night was still;
His helm was silver,
And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.

Up and Down

Down the Hill of Ludgate,
Up the Hill of Fleet,
To and fro and East and West
With people flows the street;
Even the King of England
On Temple Bar must beat
For leave to ride to Ludgate
Down the Hill of Fleet.

Mrs. Earth

Mrs. Earth makes silver black,
Mrs. Earth makes iron red
But Mrs. Earth can not stain gold,
Nor ruby red.
Mrs. earth the slenderest bone
Whitens in her bosom cold,
But Mrs. Earth can change my dreams
No more than ruby or gold.
Mrs. Earth and Mr. Sun
Can tan my skin, and tire my toes,
But all that I’m thinking of, ever shall think,
Why, either knows.

Alas, alack!

Ann, Ann!
Come! Quick as you can!
There’s a fish that talks
In the frying-pan.
Out of the fat,
As clear as glass,
He put up his mouth
And moaned ‘Alas!’
Oh, most mournful,
‘Alas, alack!’
Then turned to his sizzling,
And sank him back.

Tired Tim

Poor Tired Tim! It’s sad for him.
He lags the long bright morning through,
Ever so tired of nothing to do;
He moons and mopes the livelong day,
Nothing to think about, nothing to say;
Up to bed with his candle to creep,
Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep:
Poor Tired Tim! It’s sad for him.

Mima

Jemima is my name,
But oh, I have another;
My father always calls me Meg,
And so do Bob and mother;
Only my sister, jealous of
The strands of my bright hair,
‘Jemima Mima Mima!’
Calls, mocking, up the stair.

The Huntsmen

Three jolly gentlemen,
In coats of red,
Rode their horses
Up to bed.

Three jolly gentlemen
Snored till morn,
Their horses champing
The golden corn.

Three jolly gentlemen,
At break of day,
Came clitter-clatter down the stairs
And galloped away.

The Bandog

Has anybody seen my Mopser? ­
A comely dog is he,
With hair of the colour of a Charles the Fifth,
And teeth like ships at sea,
His tail it curls straight upwards,
His ears stand two abreast,
And he answers to the simple name of Mopser
When civilly addressed.

I can’t abear

I can’t abear a Butcher,
I can’t abide his meat,
The ugliest shop of all is his,
The ugliest in the street;
Bakers’ are warm, cobblers’ dark,
Chemists’ burn watery lights;
But oh, the sawdust butcher’s shop,
That ugliest of sights!

The dunce

Why does he still keep ticking?
Why does his round white face
Stare at me over the books and ink,
And mock at my disgrace?
Why does that thrush call, ‘Dunce, dunce, dunce!’?
Why does that bluebottle buzz?
Why does the sun so silent shine? ­
And what do I care if it does?

Chicken

Clapping her platter stood plump Bess,
And all across the green
Came scampering in, on wing and claw,
Chicken fat and lean:
Dorking, Spaniard, Cochin China,
Bantams sleek and small,
Like feathers blown in a great wind,
They came at Bessie’s call.

Some one

Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Some one came knocking,
I’m sure sure sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But naught there was a-stirring
In the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest
The screech-owl’s call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.

Bread and cherries

‘Cherries, ripe cherries!’
The old woman cried,
In her snowy white apron,
And basket beside;
And the little boys came,
Eyes shining, cheeks red,
To buy a bag of cherries,
To eat with their bread.

Old Shellover

‘Come!’ said Old Shellover.
‘What?’ says Creep.
’The horny old Gardener’s fast asleep;
The fat cock Thrush
To his nest has gone;
And the dew shines bright
In the rising Moon;
Old Sallie Worm from her hole doth peep:
Come!’ said Old Shellover.
‘Aye!’ said Creep.

Hapless

Hapless, hapless, I must be
All the hours of life I see,
Since my foolish nurse did once
Bed me on her leggen bones;
Since my mother did not weel
To snip my nails with blades of steel.
Had they laid me on a pillow
In a cot of water willow,
Had they bitten finger and thumb,
Not to such ill hap I had come.

The little bird

My dear Daddie bought a mansion
For to bring my Mammie to,
In a hat with a long feather,
And a trailing gown of blue;
And a company of fiddlers
And a rout of maids and men
Danced the clock round to the morning,
In a gay house-warming then.
And when all the guests were gone, and
All was still as still can be,
In from the dark ivy hopped a
Wee small bird: and that was Me.

Cake and sack

Old King Caraway
Supped on cake,
And a cup of sack
His thirst to slake;
Bird in arras
And hound in hall
Watched very softly
Or not at all;
Fire in the middle,
Stone all round
Changed not, heeded not,
Made no sound;
All by himself
At the Table High
He’d nibble and sip
While his dreams slipped by;
And when he had finished,
He’d nod and say,
’Cake and sack
For King Caraway!’

The ship of Rio

There was a ship of Rio
Sailed out into the blue,
And nine and ninety monkeys
Were all her jovial crew.
From bo’sun to the cabin boy,
From quarter to caboose,
There weren’t a stitch of calico
To breech ’em tight or loose;
From spar to deck, from deck to keel,
From barnacle to shroud,
There weren’t one pair of reach-me-downs
To all that jabbering crowd.
But wasn’t it a gladsome sight,
When roared the deep sea gales,
To see them reef her fore and aft
A-swinging by their tails!
Oh, wasn’t it a gladsome sight,
When glassy calm did come,
To see them squatting tailor-wise
Around a keg of rum!
Oh, wasn’t it a gladsome sight,
When in she sailed to land,
To see them all a-scampering skip
For nuts across the sand!

Tillie

Old Tillie Turveycombe
Sat to sew,
Just where a patch of fern did grow;
There, as she yawned,
And yawn wide did she,
Floated some seed
Down her gull-e-t;
And look you once,
And look you twice,
Poor old Tillie
Was gone in a trice.
But oh, when the wind
Do a-moaning come,
’Tis poor old Tillie
Sick for home;
And oh, when a voice
In the mist do sigh,
Old Tillie Turveycombe’s
Floating by.

Jim Jay

Do diddle di do,
Poor Jim Jay
Got stuck fast
In Yesterday.
Squinting he was,
On Cross-legs bent,
Never heeding
The wind was spent.
Round veered the weathercock,
The sun drew in
And stuck was Jim
Like a rusty pin...
We pulled and we pulled
From seven till twelve,
Jim, too frightened
To help himself.
But all in vain.
The clock struck one,
And there was Jim
A little bit gone.
At half-past five
You scarce could see
A glimpse of his flapping
Handkerchee.
And when came noon,
And we climbed sky-high,
Jim was a speck
Slip slipping by.
Come to-morrow,
The neighbours say,
He’ll be past crying for;
Poor Jim Jay.

Miss T.

It’s a very odd thing -
As odd as can be –­
That whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.;
Porridge and apples,
Mince, muffins and mutton,
Jam, junket, jumbles ­
Not a rap, not a button
It matters; the moment
They’re out of her plate,
Though shared by Miss Butcher
And sour Mr. Bate;
Tiny and cheerful,
And neat as can be,
Whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.

The cupboard

I know a little cupboard,
With a teeny tiny key,
And there’s a jar of Lollypops
For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear,
As dark as dark can be,
And there’s a dish of Banbury Cakes
For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma,
With a very slippery knee,
And she’s the Keeper of the Cupboard
With the key, key, key.

And I’m very good, my dear,
As good as good can be,
There’s Branbury Cakes, and Lollypops
For me, me, me.

The Barber’s

Gold locks, and black locks,
Red locks and brown,
Topknot to love-curl
The hair wisps down;
Straight above the clear eyes,
Rounded round the ears,
Snip-snap and snick-a-snick,
Clash the Barber’s shears;
Us, in the looking-glass,
Footsteps in the street,
Over, under, to and fro,
The lean blades meet;
Bay Rum or Bear’s Grease,
A silver groat to pay
Then out a-shin-shan-shining
In the bright, blue day.

Hide and seek

Hide and seek, says the Wind,
In the shade of the woods;
Hide and seek, says the Moon,
To the hazel buds;
Hide and seek, says the Cloud,
Star on to star;
Hide and seek, says the Wave,
At the harbour bar;
Hide and seek, say I,
To myself, and step
Out of the dream of Wake
Into the dream of Sleep.