The Owl in the Oak

Two Little Dogs

Two little dogs sat by the fire,
Over a fender of coal-dust;
When one said to the other dog,
"If Pompey won't talk, why, I must."

Saturday, Sunday

On Saturday night
Shall be all my care
To powder my locks
And curl my hair.
On Sunday morning
My love will come in,
When he will marry me
With a gold ring.

Merchants of London

Hey diddle dinkety, poppety, pet.

The merchants of London they wear scarlet;
Silk in the collar, and gold in hem,
So merrily march the merchantmen.

THERE was an owl lived in an oak,
Whiskey, whaskey, weedle;
And all the words he ever spoke
Were 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!"