UP AND DOWN
Down the Hill of Ludgate, Up the Hill of Fleet, To and fro and East and West With people flows the street; Even the King of England On Temple Bar must beat For leave to ride to Ludgate Down the Hill of Fleet.MRS. EARTH
Mrs. Earth makes silver black, Mrs. Earth makes iron red But Mrs. Earth can not stain gold, Nor ruby red. Mrs. earth the slenderest bone Whitens in her bosom cold, But Mrs. Earth can change my dreams No more than ruby or gold. Mrs. Earth and Mr. Sun Can tan my skin, and tire my toes, But all that I'm thinking of, ever shall think, Why, either knows.ALAS, ALACK!
Ann, Ann! Come! Quick as you can! There's a fish that talks In the frying-pan. Out of the fat, As clear as glass, He put up his mouth And moaned 'Alas!' Oh, most mournful, 'Alas, alack!' Then turned to his sizzling, And sank him back.TIRED TIM
Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him. He lags the long bright morning through, Ever so tired of nothing to do; He moons and mopes the livelong day, Nothing to think about, nothing to say; Up to bed with his candle to creep, Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep: Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him.MIMA
Jemima is my name, But oh, I have another; My father always calls me Meg, And so do Bob and mother; Only my sister, jealous of The strands of my bright hair, 'Jemima - Mima - Mima!' Calls, mocking, up the stair.THE HUNTSMEN
Three jolly gentlemen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.
Three jolly gentlemen Snored till morn, Their horses champing The golden corn.
Three jolly gentlemen, At break of day, Came clitter-clatter down the stairs And galloped away.THE BANDOG
Has anybody seen my Mopser? — A comely dog is he, With hair of the colour of a Charles the Fifth, And teeth like ships at sea, His tail it curls straight upwards, His ears stand two abreast, And he answers to the simple name of Mopser When civilly addressed.I CAN'T ABEAR
I can't abear a Butcher, I can't abide his meat, The ugliest shop of all is his, The ugliest in the street; Bakers' are warm, cobblers' dark, Chemists' burn watery lights; But oh, the sawdust butcher's shop, That ugliest of sights!THE DUNCE
Why does he still keep ticking? Why does his round white face Stare at me over the books and ink, And mock at my disgrace? Why does that thrush call, 'Dunce, dunce, dunce!'? Why does that bluebottle buzz? Why does the sun so silent shine? — And what do I care if it does?CHICKEN
Clapping her platter stood plump Bess, And all across the green Came scampering in, on wing and claw, Chicken fat and lean: Dorking, Spaniard, Cochin China, Bantams sleek and small, Like feathers blown in a great wind, They came at Bessie's call....