What care I how black I be,
Twenty pounds will marry me;
If twenty won't, forty shall,
I am my mother's bouncing girl.

Cock a doodle doo,

My dame has lost her shoe; My master has lost his fiddle-stick, And knows not what to do.

A long-tail'd pig, or a short-tail'd pig, Or a pig without any tail;

A sow pig, or a boar pig,

Or a pig with a curling tail.

Take hold of the tail and eat off his head; And then you'll be sure the pig-hog is

dead.

A carrion crow sat on an oak, Watching a tailor shape his cloak: Wife, bring me my old bent bow, That I may shoot yon carrion crow.

The tailor he shot, and miss'd his mark, And shot his own sow quite through the heart:

Wife! bring brandy in a spoon;

For our old sow is in a swoon!

The sow came in with the saddle;
The little pig rock'd the cradle;
The dish jump'd over the table,
To see the pot with the ladle;
The broom behind the butt,

Call'd the dish-clout a nasty slutOdds-bobs, says the gridiron, can't you

agree,

Printed by Thomas Richardson, Derby.