What care I how black I be, 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! |