Identifier: mothergoosesmelo00kapp (find matches)
Title: Mother Goose's melodies : or Songs for the nursery
Year: 1879 (1870s)
Authors: Kappes, Alfred, 1850-1894, ill
Subjects: Nursery rhymes
Publisher: Boston : Houghton, Osgood and Company
Contributing Library: Boston Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Public Library

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lady s on her death-bed.With eating half a pumpkiji. Bye, baby bunting,^^^Daddys gone a hunting,To get a little rabbits skinTo wrap the baby bunting in. Catch him, crow! carry him, kite!Take him away till the apples are ripe ;When they are ripe and ready to fall.Home comes (Jolmnyy, apples and all. Charley loves good cake and ale,Charley loves good candy, 24 Mother Gooses Melodies. Charley loves to kiss the girls,When they are clean and handy. Cock a doodle doo! My dame has lost her shoe ; My master s lost his fiddling-stick, And dont know what to do. Cock a doodle doo ! What is my dame to do .^ Till master finds his fiddling-stick, Shell dance without her shoe. Cock a doodle doo ! My dame has lost her shoe. And masters found his fiddling-stick. Sing doodle doodle doo ! Cock a doodle doo!My dame will dance with you,While master fiddles his fiddling-stick^For dame and doodle doo. Cock a doodle doo ! Dame has lost her shoe ; Gone to bed and scratched her head. And cant tell what to do.
Text Appearing After Image:
Mother Gooses Melodies. 25 Hey ! diddle, diddle,^i The cat and the hddle,The cow jumped over the moon ; The Httle dog laughed To see such sport,And the dish ran away with the spoon. Cock Robin got up early, At the break of day,And went to Jennys window, To sing a roundelay. He sang Cock Robins loveTo the pretty Jenny Wren, And when he got unto the end.Then he began again. Cold and raw the north winds blow,Bleak in the morning early; All the hills are covered with snow.And winter s now come fairly. Come, butter, come,^^ Come, butter, come ! Peter stands at the gate, Waiting for a buttered cake ; Come, butter, come ! 26 Mother Gooses Melodies, Come, dance a jigTo my grannys pig, With a raudy, rowdy, dowdy ;Come, dance a jigTo my grannys pig, And pussy-cat shall crowdy.^ Come listen, my boys, sit still and be mum, Ill read the apparel of Master Tom Thumb. An oaken leaf he had for his crown ; His shirt it was by spiders spun; His stockings of thistle-down, they tie With eyelash picked fro

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