' Hall,
Working with their tools and all.
Five beetles against the wall,
Close to an old woman's apple-stall.
Four puppies with our dog Ball,
Who daily for their breakfast call.
Three monkeys tied to a log.
Two puddings' ends, would choke a dog,
Or a gaping, wide-mouthed, waddling frog.

[Illustration]

Seven lobsters in a dish,
As fresh as any heart could wish.
Six joiners in Joiners' Hall,
Working with their tools and all.
Five beetles against the wall,
Close to an old woman's apple-stall.
Four puppies with our dog Ball,
Who daily for their breakfast call.
Three monkeys tied to a log.
Two puddings' ends, would choke a dog,
Or a gaping, wide-mouthed, waddling frog.

[Illustration]

Eight peacocks in the air,
I wonder how they all got there?
You don't know, and I don't care.
Seven lobsters in a dish, as fresh as any heart could wish.
Six joiners in Joiners' Hall, working with their tools and all.
Five beetles against the wall, close to an old woman's apple-stall.
Four puppies with our dog Ball, who daily for their breakfast call.
Three monkeys tied to a log.
Two puddings' ends, would choke a dog,
Or a gaping, wide-mouthed, waddling frog.

[Illustration]

Nine ships sailing on the main,
Some bound for France, and some for Spain;
I wish them all safe back again.
Eight peacocks in the air,
I wonder how they all got there?
You don't know, and I don't care.
Seven lobsters in a dish,
As fresh as any heart could wish.
Six joiners in Joiners' Hall,
Working with their tools and all.
Five beetles against the wall,
Close to an old woman's apple-stall.
Four puppies with our dog Ball,
Who daily for their breakfast call.
Three monkeys tied to a log.
Two puddings' ends, would choke a dog,
Or a gaping, wide-mouthed, waddling frog.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

* * * * *

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

MY MOTHER.

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush'd me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My Mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rock'd me that I should not cry?
My Mother.

[Illustration]

Who sat and watched my infant head,
When sleeping in my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

[Illustration]

Who dress'd