Sing a song of sixpence,
A bag full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie; When the pie was open'd,
The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish
To set before the king ?
The king was in his counting-houso
Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlour
Eating bread and honey; The maid was«n the garden,
Hanging out the clothes, There came a little blackbird,
And snapt off her nose.