SIXTH CLASS-SONGS.

OH

CXXX.

H, where are you going,
My pretty maiden fair,

With your red rosy cheeks,
And your coal-black hair?
I'm going a-milking,

Kind sir, says she;

And it's dabbling in the dew,

Where you'll find me.

May I go

with you,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.

Oh, you may go with me,

Kind sir, says she, &c.

If I should chance to kiss you, My pretty maiden fair, &c. The wind may take it off again, Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is

your father,

My pretty maiden fair, &c.
My father is a farmer,
Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is your mother,
My pretty maiden fair, &c.
My mother is a dairy-maid,
Kind sir, says she, &c.

CXXXI.

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're all gone away.

CXXXII.

[This is the version generally given in nursery collections, but is somewhat different in the Pills to Purge Melancholy,' 1719, vol. iv, p. 148.]

ONE misty moisty morning
When cloudy was the weather,
There I met an old man

Clothed all in leather;

Clothed all in leather,

With cap under his chin,—

How do you do, and how do you do,
And how do you do again!

CXXXIII.

THE fox and his wife they had a great strife, They never eat mustard in all their whole life; They eat their meat without fork or knife,

And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!

The fox jumped up on a moonlight night; The stars they were shining, and all things bright;

Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night
For me to go through the town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to yonder stile,
He lifted his lugs and he listened a while!
Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile

From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to the farmer's gate, Who should he see but the farmer's drake; I love you well for your master's sake,

And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!

The gray goose she ran round the hay-stack, Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat; You'll grease my beard and ride on my back From this into yonder wee town, e-ho!

Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed,

She opened the casement, and popped out her head;

Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead,

And the fox is gone through the town, oh!

Then the old man got up in his red сар, And swore he would catch the fox in a trap; But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip,

And ran thro' the town, the town, oh!

When he got to the top of the hill,

He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill, For joy that he was safe

Thro' the town, oh!

When the fox came back to his den,
He had young ones both nine and ten,
You're welcome home, daddy, you may go
again,

If

you bring us such nice meat From the town, oh!"

CXXXIV.

LITTLE Tom Dogget,
What dost thou mean,
To kill thy poor Colly
Now she's so lean?
Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow,

For Colly will give me

No more milk now.

I had better have kept her,
"Till fatter she had been,
For now, I confess,

She's a little too lean.
Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

First in comes the tanner
With his sword by his side,
And he bids me five shillings
For my poor cow's hide.
Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.