SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE

Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie,


When the pie was opened,
 The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish,
 To set before the king?


The king was in his counting house,
     Counting out his money;
The queen was in the parlor
    Eating bread and honey

The maid was in the garden,
    Hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird
   And pecked off her nose