The queen next morning fried.


Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green,
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen,
And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.


See saw, Jack-a-daw,
Johnny shall have a new master;
Johnny shall have but a penny a day,
Because he can work no faster.


About the bush, Willie, about the bee-hive,
About the bush, Willie, I'll meet thee alive.


We're three brethren out of Spain,
Come to court your daughter Jane.

My daughter Jane she is too young,
She has no skill in a flattering tongue.

Be she young or be she old,
It's for her gold she must be sold,
So fare you well, my lady gay,
We shall return another day.