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The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,

All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts,

He stole those tarts,

And took them clean away.

The King of Hearts

Called for the tarts,

And beat the Knave full sore; The Knave of Hearts

Brought back the tarts,

And vowed he'd steal no more.

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"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" "I'm going a-milking, sir," she said. "May I go with you, my pretty maid?" "You're kindly welcome, sir," she said. "What is your father, my pretty maid?" "My father's a farmer, sir," she said.

"Say, will you marry me, my pretty maid?" "Yes, if you please, kind sir," she said. "What is your fortune, my pretty maid?" "My face is my fortune, sir," she said. "Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid!" "Nobody asked you, sir," she said.

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Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Sick on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,

Died on Saturday,

Buried on Sunday;

And that was the last of
Poor old Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,

Sick on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,

etc., etc.

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