Mother Goose or the Old Nursery Rhimes

Mother Goose or the Old Nursery Rhimes

Cover designer Алексей Борисович Козлов

Compiler Алексей Борисович Козлов

© Алексей Борисович Козлов, cover design, 2025

© Алексей Борисович Козлов, compiler, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0065-5362-0

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

There was an old man of Tobago

There was an old man of Tobago,

Who lived on rice, gruel, and sago;

Till, much to his bliss,

His physician said this —

«To a leg, sir, of mutton you may go.»

Old Mother Goose

Old Mother Goose, whenShe wanted to wander,Would ride through the airOn a very fine gander.Mother Goose had a house,‘Twas built in a wood,Where an owl at the doorFor sentinel stood.This is her son Jack,A plain-looking lad,He is not very good,Nor yet very bad.She sent him to market,A live goose he bought,“Here, mother,” says he,“It will not go for nought.”Jack’s goose and her ganderGrew very fond,They’d both eat together,Or swim in one pond.Jack found one fine morningAs I have been told,His goose had laid himAn egg of pure gold.Jack rode to his mother,The news for to tell,She called him a good boyAnd said it was well.Jack sold his gold eggTo a rogue of a Jew,Who cheated him out ofThe half of his due.Then Jack went a-courtingA lady so gay, As fair as the lily,And sweet as the May.The Jew and the SquireCame behind his back,And began to be labourThe sides of poor Jack.And then the gold eggWas thrown into the sea,When Jack he jumped in,And got it back presently.The Jew got the goose,Which he vowed he would kill,Resolving at onceHis pockets to fill.Jack’s mother came in,And caught the goose soon,And mounting its back,Flew up to the moon.

Boys and girls, come out to play

The moon does shine as bright as day,Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,And meet your playfellows in the street; Come with a whoop, and come with a call,And come with a good will, or not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A halfpenny loaf will serve us all.You find milk and I’ll find flour,And we’ll have a pudding in half an hour.

Tom Tumbs Alphabet

A was an Archer, who shot at a frog.B was a Butcher, who had a great dog.C was a Captain, all covered with lace.D was a Drummer, who played with a grace.E was an Esquire with pride on his brow.F was a Farmer, who followed the plough.G was a Gamester, who had but ill-luck.H was a Hunter, who hunted a buck.I was an Italian, who had a white mouse. J was a Joiner, who built up a house.K was a King, so mighty and grand.L was a Lady, who had a white hand.M was a Miser, who hoarded up gold.N was a Nobleman, gallant and bold.O was an Organ-Boy, who played for his bread.P a Policeman, of bad boys the dread.Q was a Quaker, who would not bow down.R was a Robber, who prowled about town.S was a Sailor, who spent all he got.T was a Tinker, who mended a pot.U was an Usher, with dunces severe.V was a Veteran, who never knew fear.W was a Waiter, with dinners in store.X was Expensive, and so became poor.Y was a Youth, who did not like school.Z was a Zany, who looked a great fool.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea,Shining with all his might:He did his very best to makeThe billows smooth and bright—And this was odd, because it wasThe middle of the night.The moon was shining sulkily,Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be thereAfter the day was done—“It’s very rude of him,” she said,“To come and spoil the fun!”The sea was wet as wet could be,The sands were dry as dry.You could not see a cloud, becauseNo cloud was in the sky:No birds were flying overhead—There were no birds to fly.The Walrus and the CarpenterWere walking close at hand;They wept like anything to seeSuch quantities of sand:“If this were only cleared away,”They said, “it would be grand!”“If seven maids with seven mopsSwept it for half a year,Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,“That they could get it clear?”“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,And shed a bitter tear.“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”The Walrus did beseech.“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,Along the briny beach:We cannot do with more than four,To give a hand to each.”The eldest Oyster looked at him,But never a word he said:The eldest Oyster winked his eye,And shook his heavy head—Meaning to say he did not chooseTo leave the oyster-bed.But four young Oysters hurried up,All eager for the treat:Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,Their shoes were clean and neat—And this was odd, because, you know,They hadn’t any feet. Four otherOysters followed them,And yet another four;And thick and fast they came at last,And more, and more, and more—All hopping through the frothy waves,And scrambling to the shore.The Walrus and the CarpenterWalked on a mile or so,And then they rested on a rockConveniently low:And all the little Oysters stoodAnd waited in a row.“The time has come,” the Walrus said,“To talk of many things:Of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax—Of cabbages – and kings—And why the sea is boiling hot—And whether pigs have wings.”“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,“Before we have our chat;For some of us are out of breath,And all of us are fat!”“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.They thanked him much for that.“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,“Is what we chiefly need:Pepper and vinegar besidesAre very good indeed—Now if you’re ready,Oysters dear,We can begin to feed.”“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,Turning a little blue.“After such kindness, that would beA dismal thing to do!”“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.“Do you admire the view?“It was so kind of you to come!And you are very nice!”The Carpenter said nothing but“Cut us another slice:I wish you were not quite so deaf—I’ve had to ask you twice!”“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said, “To play them such a trick,After we’ve brought them out so far,And made them trot so quick!”The Carpenter said nothing but“The butter’s spread too thick!”“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:“I deeply sympathize.”With sobs and tears he sorted outThose of the largest size,Holding his pocket-handkerchiefBefore his streaming eyes.“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,“You’ve had a pleasant run!Shall we be trotting home again?”But answer there came none—And this was scarcely odd, becauseThey’d eaten every one.– Lewis Carroll.

A Man Went Hunting at Reigate

A man went hunting at Reigate,And wished to jump over a high gate;Says the owner, “Go round,With your horse and your hound,For you never shall leap over my gate.”

Humpty-Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men,Couldn’t set Humpty Dumpty up again.

“There was an Owl Lived in an Oak”

There was an Owl lived in an oak,Whiskey, Whaskey, Weedle;And all the words he ever spokeWere Fiddle, Faddle, Feedle.A sportsman chanced to come that way,Whiskey, Whaskey, Weedle;Says he, “I’ll shoot you, silly bird,So Fiddle, Faddle, Feedle!”

Four and twenty tailors

Four and twenty tailors went to kill a snail,The best man amongst them durst not touch her tail.She put out her horns, like a little Kyloe cow,Run, tailors, run, or she’ll kill you all just now.

Good King Arthur

When good King Arthur ruled this land,He was a goodly King;He bought three pecks of barley-meal,To make a bag-pudding.A bag-pudding the King did make, And stuffed it well with plums,And in it put great lumps of fat,As big as my two thumbs.The King and Queen did eat thereof,And noblemen beside;And what they could not eat that night,

Market

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,Home again, home again, jiggety jig.To market, to market, to buy a fat hog,Home again, home again, jiggety jog.

Hot cross buns

Hot cross buns, hot cross buns,One a penny, two a penny,Hot cross buns.If your daughters don’t like them,Give them to your sons,One a penny, two a penny, Hot cross buns.

Rusty, dusty

Oh, the rusty, dusty, rusty miller,I’ll not change my wife for gold or siller.

Who Stole the Bird’s-Nest?

To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!Will you listen to me?Who stole four eggs I laid,And the nice nest I made?Not I, said the cow, moo-oo!Such a thing I’d never do.I gave you a wisp of hay,But did not take your nest away;Not I, said the cow, moo-oo!Such a thing I’d never do.Bob-o-link! Bob-o-link!Now, what do you think?Who stole a nest awayFrom the plum-tree to-day?Not I, said the dog, bow-wow!I wouldn’t be so mean, I vow. I gave some hairs the nest to make,But the nest I did not take;Not I, said the dog, bow-wow!I would not be so mean,I vow. Coo-coo! coo-coo! coo-coo!Let me speak a word or two:Who stole that pretty nestFrom little Robin Redbreast?Not I, said the sheep; oh, no,I would not treat a poor bird so;I gave the wool the nest to line,But the nest was none of mine.Baa! baa! said the sheep; oh, no!I wouldn’t treat a poor bird so.Caw! caw! cried the crow,I should like to knowWhat thief took awayA bird’s-nest to-day.Chuck! chuck! said the hen,Don’t ask me again; Why, I haven’t a chickWould do such a trick.We all gave her a feather,And she wove them together.I’d scorn to intrudeOn her and her brood.Chuck! chuck! said the hen,Don’t ask me again.Chirr-a-whirr! chirr-a-whirr!We will make a great stir.Let us find out his name,And all cry – For shame!A little boy hung down his head,And went and hid behind the bed;For he stole that pretty nestFrom little Robin Redbreast;And he felt so full of shameHe did not like to tell his name.

“There was a Jolly Miller.”

There was a jolly millerLived on the river Dee:He worked and sang from morn till night,No lark so blithe as he.And this the burden of his songFor ever used to be—I care for nobody – no! not I, Since nobody cares for me.

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS

The Queen of HeartsShe made some tartsAll on a summer’s day;The Knave of HeartsHe stole those tarts,And took them clean away.The King of HeartsCalled for the tarts,And beat the Knave full sore; The Knave of HeartsBrought back the tarts,And vowed he’d steal no more.There were three crows sat on a stone,Fal la, la la lal de,Two flew away, and then there was one,Fal la, la la lal de,The other crow finding himself alone, Fal la, la la lal de,He flew away, and then there was none,Fal la, la la lal de.

Dickery, Dare

Dickery, dickery, dare,The pig flew up in the air;The man in brown soon brought him down,Dickery, dickery, dare.

A little man

There was a little man, and he had a little gun,And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;He shot Johnny King through the middle of his wig,And knocked it right off his head, head, head.Three straws on a staff,Would make a baby cry and laugh.Multiplication is vexation,Division is as bad;The Rule of Three perplexes me,And Practice drives me mad.Daffy-down-Dilly has come up to town,In a yellow petticoat and a green gown.

Molly, my sister

Molly, my sister, and I fell out,And what do you think it was about?She loved coffee, and I loved tea,And that was the reason we couldn’t agree.

Solomon Grundy

Solomon Grundy,Born on a Monday,Christened on Tuesday,Married on Wednesday,Very ill on Thursday,Worse on Friday,Died on Saturday,Buried on Sunday.This is the endOf Solomon Grundy.

Jack Sprat

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,His wife could eat no lean;And so betwixt them both, you see,They licked the platter clean.

At the siege of Belleisle

At the siege of Belleisle I was there all the while,All the while, all the while, at the siege of Belleisle.

One, two

One, two, buckle my shoe;Three, four, shut the door; Five, six, pick up sticks;Seven, eight, lay them straight;Nine, ten, a good fat hen;Eleven, twelve, dig and delve;Thirteen, fourteen, maids a-courting;Fifteen, sixteen, maids in the kitchen;Seventeen, eighteen, maids in waiting;Nineteen, twenty, my plate is empty.

As I went to Bonner

As I went to Bonner,I met a pigWithout a wig,Upon my word and honour.

Hush, baby, my doll

Hush, baby, my doll,I pray you don’t cry,And I’ll give you some bread, and some milk by-and-by;Or perhaps you like custard, or, maybe, a tart,Then to either you are welcome, with all my heart.Pitty Patty Polt,Shoe the wild colt;Here a nail,And there a nail,Pitty Patty Polt.

Brow, brow, brinkie

Brow, brow, brinkie,Eye, eye, winkie,Mouth, mouth, merry,Cheek, cheek, cherry,Chin chopper, chin chopper,&c.

If you are to be a gentleman

If you are to be a gentleman, as I suppose you’ll be,You’ll neither laugh nor smile for a tickling of the knee.

My pretty maid

“Where are you going to, my pretty maid?”“I am going a-milking, sir,” she said.“May I go with you, my pretty maid?”“You’re kindly welcome, sir,” she said.“What is your father, my pretty maid?”“My father’s a farmer, sir,” she said.“What is your fortune, my pretty maid?”“My face is my fortune, sir,” she said.“Then I won’t marry you, my pretty maid.”“Nobody asked you, sir,” she said.

The Barber

The barber shaved the mason,And as I supposeCut off his nose,And popped it in the basin.

“The Dame Made a Curtsey, the Dog made a Bow.”

The Dame made a curtsey,The Dog made a bow;The Dame said, “Your servant,”The Dog said, “Bow wow.”This wonderful DogWas Dame Hubbard’s delight;He could sing, he could dance, He could read, he could write.She gave him rich daintiesWhenever he fed,And erected a monumentWhen he was dead.

Old Mother Hubbard and Her Dog

Old Mother HubbardWent to the cupboard,To get her poor Dog a bone;But when she came thereThe cupboard was bare, And so the poor Dog had none.She went to the baker’sTo buy him some bread,But when she came backThe poor Dog was dead.She went to the joiner’sTo buy him a coffin,But when she came backThe poor Dog was laughing,She took a clean dishTo get him some tripe,But when she came backHe was smoking a pipe.She went to the alehouseTo get him some beer,But when she came backThe Dog sat in a chair.She went to the tavernFor white wine and red,But when she came backThe Dog stood on his head.She went to the hatter’sTo buy him a hat,But when she came backHe was feeding the cat.She went to the barber’sTo buy him a wig,But when she came backHe was dancing a jig.She went to the fruiterer’sTo buy him some fruit,But when she came backHe was playing the flute.She went to the tailor’sTo buy him a coat,But when she came backHe was riding a goat.She went to the cobbler’sTo buy him some shoes,But when she came backHe was reading the news.She went to the sempstressTo buy him some linen,But when she came backThe Dog was a-spinning.She went to the hosier’sTo buy him some hose,But when she came backHe was dressed in his clothes.

There was a monkey

There was a monkey climbed up a tree;When he fell down, then down fell he.There was a crow sat on a stone;When he was gone, then there was none.There was an old wife did eat an apple;When she ate two, she had ate a couple.There was a horse going to the mill;When he went on, he didn’t stand still.There was a butcher cut his thumb.When it did bleed, then blood it did run.There was a jockey ran a race;When he ran fast, he ran apace.There was a cobbler, clouting shoon;When they were mended, then they were done.There was a navy went into Spain;When it returned, it came back again.

I had a little Hen

I had a little Hen, the prettiest ever seen,She washed me the dishes and kept the house clean;She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,She brought it home in less than an hour;She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,She sat by the fire and told many a fine tale.

The Waves on the Sea-Shore

Roll on, roll on, you restless waves,That toss about and roar;Why do you all run back againWhen you have reached the shore?Roll on, roll on, you noisy waves,Roll higher up the strand;How is it that you cannot passThat line of yellow sand?“We may not dare,” the waves reply:“That line of yellow sandIs laid along the shore to boundThe waters and the land.“And all should keep to time and place,And all should keep to rule,Both waves upon the sandy shore,And little boys at school.”

Little Jack Horner

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,Eating a Christmas pie;He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,And said, “What a good boy am I!”

The Marriage of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren

It was on a merry time,When Jenny Wren was young,So neatly as she danced,And so sweetly as she sung, — Robin Redbreast lost his heart:He was a gallant bird;He doffed his hat to Jenny,And thus to her he said:“My dearest Jenny Wren,If you will but be mine,You shall dine on cherry-pie,And drink nice currant-wine.“I’ll dress you like a goldfinch,Or like a peacock gay;So if you’ll have me, Jenny,Let us appoint the day.”Jenny blushed behind her fan,And thus declared her mind:“Then let it be to-morrow, Bob, —I take your offer kind;“Cherry-pie is very good,So is currant-wine;But I’ll wear my russet gown,And never dress too fine.”Robin rose up early,At the break of day;He flew to Jenny Wren’s house,To sing a roundelay.He met the Cock and Hen,And bade the Cock declare,This was his wedding-dayWith Jenny Wren the fair.The Cock then blew his horn,To let the neighbours knowThis was Robin’s wedding-day,And they might see the show.At first came Parson Rook, With his spectacles and band;And one of Mother Hubbard’s booksHe held within his hand.Then followed him the Lark,For he could sweetly sing,And he was to be the clerkAt Cock Robin’s wedding.He sang of Robin’s loveFor Little Jenny Wren;And when he came unto the end,Then he began again.The Goldfinch came on next,To give away the Bride;The Linnet, being bridesmaid, Walked by Jenny’s side;And as she was a-walking,Said, “Upon my word,I think that your Cock RobinIs a very pretty bird.”The Blackbird and the Thrush,And charming Nightingale,Whose sweet “jug” sweetly echoesThrough every grove and dale;The Sparrow and Tomtit,And many more, were there;All came to see the weddingOf Jenny Wren the fair.The Bullfinch walked by Robin,And thus to him did say,“Pray mark, friend Robin Redbreast,That Goldfinch dressed so gay:“What though her gay apparelBecomes her very well,Yet Jenny’s modest dress and lookMust bear away the bell.”Then came the Bride and Bridegroom;Quite plainly was she dressed,And blushed so much, her cheeks wereAs red as Robin’s breast.But Robin cheered her up;“My pretty Jen,” said he,“We’re going to be married,And happy we shall be.”“Oh, then,” says Parson Rook,“Who gives this maid away?”“I do,” says the Goldfinch,“And her fortune I will pay:“Here’s a bag of grain of many sorts,And other things beside:Now happy be the bridegroom,And happy be the bride!”“And will you have her,Robin, To be your wedded wife?”“Yes, I will,” says Robin,“And love her all my life!”“And you will have him, Jenny,Your husband now to be?”“Yes, I will,” says Jenny,“And love him heartily!”Then on her finger fairCock Robin put the ring;“You’re married now,” says Parson Rook,While the Lark aloud did sing: “Happy be the bridegroom,And happy be the bride!And may not man, nor bird, nor beast,This happy pair divide!”The birds were asked to dine,Not Jenny’s friends alone,But every pretty songsterThat had Cock Robin known.They had a cherry-pie,Besides some currant-wine,And every guest brought something,That sumptuous they might dine.Now they all sat or stood,To eat and to drink;And every one said whatHe happened to think.They each took a bumper,And drank to the pair,Cock Robin the bridegroom,And Jenny the fair.The dinner-things removed,They all began to sing;And soon they made the placeNear a mile round to ring.The concert it was fine;And every bird triedWho best should sing for Robin,And Jenny Wren the bride.When in came the Cuckoo,And made a great rout;He caught hold of Jenny,And pulled her about.Cock Robin was angry,And so was the Sparrow,Who fetched in a hurryHis bow and his arrow.His aim then he took,But he took it not right;His skill was not good,Or he shot in a fright; For the Cuckoo he missed,But Cock Robin he killed! —And all the birds mournedThat his blood was so spilled.

The Death and Burial of Poor

Cock Robin

Who killed Cock Robin?I, said the Sparrow,With my bow and arrow,I killed Cock Robin.This is the Sparrow,With his bow and arrow.Who saw him die?I, said the Fly,With my little eye,I saw him die.This is the little FlyWho saw Cock Robin die.Who caught his blood?I, said the Fish,With my little dish,I caught his blood.This is the Fish,That held the dish.Who’ll make his shroud?I, said the Beetle,With my thread and needle,I’ll make his shroud.This is the Beetle,With his thread and needle.Who’ll dig his grave?I, said the Owl,With my spade and show’l,I’ll dig his grave.This is the Owl,With his spade and show’l.Who’ll be the Parson?I, said the Rook,With my little book,I’ll be the Parson.This is the Rook,Reading his book.Who’ll be the Clerk?I, said the Lark,If it’s not in the dark,I’ll be the Clerk.This is the Lark,Saying “Amen” like a clerk.Who’ll carry him to the grave?I, said the Kite, If it’s not in the night,I’ll carry him to the grave.This is the Kite,About to take flight.Who’ll carry the link?I, said the Linnet,I’ll fetch it in a minute,I’ll carry the link.This is the Linnet,And a link with fire in it.Who’ll be chief mourner?I, said the Dove,For I mourn for my love,I’ll be chief mourner.This is the Dove,Who Cock Robin did love.Who’ll sing a psalm?I, said the Thrush,As she sat in a bush,I’ll sing a psalm.This is the Thrush,Singing psalms from a bush.Who’ll toll the bell?I, said the Bull,Because I can pull;So, Cock Robin, farewell!This is the BullWho the bell-rope did pull.All the birds of the airFell a-sighing and sobbing,When they heard the bell tollFor Poor Cock Robin.

Freddie and the Cherry-Tree

FREDDIE saw some fine ripe cherriesHanging on a cherry-tree, And he said,“You pretty cherries,Will you not come down to me?”“Thank you kindly,” said a cherry,“We would rather stay up here;If we ventured down this morning,You would eat us up, I fear.”One, the finest of the cherries,Dangled from a slender twig;“You are beautiful,” said Freddie,“Red and ripe, and oh, how big!”“Catch me,” said the cherry, “catch me,Little master, if you can.”“I would catch you soon,” said Freddie,“If I were a grown-up man.”

Freddie jumped, and tried to reach it,

Standing high upon his toes;But the cherry bobbed about,And laughed, and tickled Freddie’s nose.

Simple Simon

Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair;Says Simple Simon to the pieman,

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