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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.
The yarn his rib had spun,
He swore it was no fun.
But sore against his will;
Bad luck pursued him still.
It was a lovely day,
And stole his wig away.
It was his Sunday wig,
And left it on a twig.
Now loud the hens and turkeys
He was by all attack’d.
The little pigs to feed,
In spite of all his heed.
In piteous case was he, [back, While from her work his wife came
As blythe as blythe could be.
Soon set all neat and right,
They bravely fared that night.
Joe sullenly confess'd,
The household business best.
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,
this pig. Note. This is said to each finger.
['em; And cannot tell where to find Leave them alone, and they'll
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
For they were still all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
her heart bleed,
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;
ITTLE Jack Horner
Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb, * And pulled out a plum, And said, “What a good boy am I!”