d;
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,
With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!
A farmer went trotting
Upon his gray mare;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
With his daughter behind him,
So rosy and fair;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried "Croak";
And they all tumbled down;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
The mare broke her knees,
And the farmer his crown;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump.
The mischievous raven
Flew laughing away;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
And vowed he would serve them
The same the next day;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
Hey, my kitten, my kitten,
And hey, my kitten, my deary!
Such a sweet pet as this
Was neither far nor neary.
Here we go up, up, up,
And here we go down, down, downy;
And here we go backwards and forwards,
And here we go round, round, roundy.
Hey diddle, dinkety, poppety, pet,
The merchants of London they wear scarlet;
Silk in the collar and gold in the hem,
So merrily march the merchantmen.
_Rhymes About a Little Woman_
This is the way the ladies ride--
Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!
This is the way the gentlemen ride--
Sitting astride, sitting astride!
This is the way the grandmothers ride--
Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!
This is the way the babykins ride--
Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!
This is the way when they are late,
They _all_ fly over a five-barred gate.
William Canton.
Every evening Baby goes
Trot, trot, to town--
Across the river, through the fields,
Up hill and down.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
To buy a woolen gown.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The birds fly down, alack!
"You cannot have our feathers, dear,"
They say; "so please trot back."
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The lambs come bleating near.
"You cannot have our wool," they say;
"But we are sorry, dear."
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Trot, trot, to town.
She buys a red rose for her hat,
She buys a cotton gown.
Mary F. Butts.
IV
BABY'S FRIENDS
Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow,
Slender legs; upon my word,
He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest notes he al
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