He found the dough his wife had set

The household bread to make, But stooping down to knead it well,

His back did sorely ache.
Joe Dobson then sat down to reel

The yarn his rib had spun,
But puzzled and perplex'd was he,

He swore it was no fun.
And now he tried to wash the clothes,

But sore against his will;
The water scalded both his hands,

Bad luck pursued him still.
He went to hang the clothes to dry,

It was a lovely day,
But oh! alas ! a magpie came

And stole his wig away.
Poor Joe look’ up with doleful face,

It was his Sunday wig,
The magpie flew with rapid flight,

And left it on a twig.

Now loud the hens and turkeys

scream'd,
The ducks and geese loud quack’d;
Enraged for food, which Joe forgot,

He was by all attack’d.
Across the yard in haste he ran

The little pigs to feed,
The old sow tripp'd him in the mud,

In spite of all his heed.
Quite out of heart, and sorely vex’d,

In piteous case was he, [back, While from her work his wife came

As blythe as blythe could be.
Now Mrs. Dobson, tidy soul,

Soon set all neat and right,
Prepared the meat, and drew the ale,

They bravely fared that night.
And as they at their supper sat,

Joe sullenly confess'd,
He was convinced that wives could do

The household business best.

KIADY-bird, Lady-bird,
SI Fly away home,
2 Your house is on fire,

Your children will burn.

1. VIET us go to the wood, says

this pig; 2. What to do there ? says

that pig; 3. To look for my mother,

says this pig; 4. What to do with her ?

says that pig; 5. To kiss her to death, says ITTLE Bo-peep has lost her Iba sheep,

['em; And cannot tell where to find Leave them alone, and they'll

come home,
And bring their tails behind 'em.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,

And dreamt she heard them bleating;
When she awoke, she found it a joke,

For they were still all fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,

Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made

her heart bleed,
For they'd left their tails behind them.

It happen'd one day, as Bo-peep did

stray, Unto å meadow hard by: There she espied their tails side by side,

All hung on a tree to dry.

ITTLE boy blue, come blow me See your horn,

The sheep's in the meadow, the

cow's in the corn;
Where is the little boy tending

the sheep?
Under the haycock fast asleep.

ITTLE Jack Horner
M Sat in a corner,

Eating a Christmas pie;

He put in his thumb, * And pulled out a plum, And said, “What a good boy am I!”