How can there be a cherry without a stone?
How can there be a bird without a bone?

When the book's unwritten none can read;
When the web's in the fleece it has no thread.

When the cherry's in the bloom it has no stone;
When the bird's in the egg it has no bone.

With a rotrum potrum trumpitrorum,
Parla me dixi dominee!

DREAM OF A GIRL WHO LIVED AT SEVENOAKS

Seven sweet singing birds up in a tree,
Seven swift sailing ships white upon the sea;
Seven bright weather-cocks shining in the sun;
Seven slim race-horses ready for a run;
Seven golden butterflies flitting overhead;
Seven red roses blowing in a garden bed;
Seven white lilies, with honey bees inside them;
Seven round rainbows, with clouds to divide them;
Seven pretty little girls, with sugar on their lips;
Seven witty little boys, whom everybody tips;
Seven nice fathers, to call little maids joys;
Seven nice mothers, to kiss the little boys;
Seven nights running I dreamt it all plain;
With bread and jam for supper I could dream it all again.

There was an old woman, and she liv'd in a shoe,
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She crumm'd 'em some porridge without any bread;
And she borrow'd a beetle, and she knock'd 'em all o' th' head.
Then out went the old woman to bespeak 'em a coffin,
And when she came back she found 'em all a-loffeing.

There was an old woman drawn up in a basket,
Three or four times as high as the moon,
And where she was going I never did ask it,
But in her hand she carried a broom.

A broom! a broom! a broom! a broom!
That grows on yonder hill,
And blows with a yellow bloom,
Just like lemon peel.
Just like lemon peel, my boys,
To mix with our English beer,
And you shall drink it all up
While we do say Goliere!
Goliere! Goliere! Goliere! Goliere!
While we do say Goliere!

Dinty diddledy,
My mammy's maid,
She stole oranges,
I am afraid;
Some in her pocket,
Some in her sleeve,
She stole oranges,
I do believe.

"Dinah, Dinah,
Go to China,
For oranges and tea;
Dolly is sick,
And wants them quick,
So skip across the sea!"

"Pudding _and_ pie!"
Said Jane, "O my!"
"Which would you rather?"
Said her father,
"Both!" cried Jane