Old King Cole
Was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three!
And every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he.
“Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee,” went the fiddlers.
Oh, there's none so rare
As can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.
Friday night's dream, on Saturday told,
Is sure to come true, be it never so old.
Whose dog art thou?
Little Tom Tinker's dog,
Away, birds, away!
Take a little and leave a little,
And do not come again;
For if you do,
I will shoot you through,
And there will be an end of you.
Needles and pins, needles and pins,
When a man marries his trouble begins.
The greedy man is he who sits
And bites bits out of plates,
Or else takes up an almanac
And gobbles all the dates.