My maid Mary she minds the dairy,
While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn;
Gaily run the reel and the little spinning wheel,
While I am singing and mowing my corn.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
Silver bells and cockle-shells,
And pretty maids all of a row.
Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well.
Ring a ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
We all fall down.
One, two, three, four, five!
I caught a hare alive;
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten!
I let her go again.
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then,
He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,