King Boggen, he built a fine new hall; Pastry and piecrust, that was the wall; The windows were made of black pudding and white, Roofed with pancakes -- you never saw the like.
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Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he. He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three. Every fiddler had a fiddle fine, And a very fine fiddle had he, had he. Tweedle dum, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers three, Tweedle dum dee, dum dee deedle dee. Tweedle dum, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers three, Tweedle dum dee, dum dee deedle dee.
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Hush-a-bye, baby, in the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, And down will come baby, cradle and all. Hush-a-bye, baby, Your cradle is green, Daddy's a king, And Mommy's a queen; Sister's a lady Who wears a gold ring; Brother's a drummer Who plays for the king. Hush-a-bye, baby, Way up on high, Never mind, baby, Mommy is nigh, Swinging the baby All around -- Hush-a-bye, baby, Up hill and down.
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Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, Lavender's green; When I am king, dilly, dilly, You shall be queen. Call up your men, dilly, dilly, Set them to work, Some to the plough, dilly, dilly, Some to the cart. Some to make hay, dilly, dilly, Some to thresh corn, While you and I, dilly, dilly, Keep ourselves warm.
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The Queen of Hearts, She made some tarts All on a summer's day. The Knave of Hearts, He stole the tarts And took them clean away. The King of Hearts, Called for the tarts And beat the Knave full sore. The Knave of Hearts, Brought back the tarts And vowed he'd steal no more.
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Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, They all began to sing. Now, wasn't that a dainty dish To set before the King? The King was in his countinghouse, Counting out his money; The Queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes. Along there came a big black bird And snipped off her nose!
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Hector Protector was dressed all in green; Hector Protector was sent to the Queen. The Queen did not like him, No more did the King; So Hector Protector was sent back again.
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The King of France went up the hill, With twenty thousand men; The King of France came down the hill, And ne'er went up again.
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"Little girl, little girl, where have you been?" "Gathering roses to give to the Queen." "Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?" "She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe."
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"Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, Where have you been?" "I've been to London To look at the Queen." "Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, What did you there?" "I frightened a little mouse Under the chair."
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Hick-a-more, Hack-a-more, On the King's kitchen door, All the King's horses, And all the King's men, Couldn't drive Hick-a-more, Hack-a-more, Off the King's kitchen door.
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The Queen of Hearts, She made some tarts, All on a summer's day; The Knave of Hearts, He stole the tarts, And took them clean away. The King of Hearts Called for the tarts, And beat the Knave full sore; The Knave of Hearts Brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.
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Highty, tighty, paradighty clothed in green, The king could not read it, no more could the queen; They sent for a wise man out of the East, Who said it had horns, but was not a beast!
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When good King Arthur ruled this land, He was a goodly king; He stole three pecks of barley-meal, To make a bag-pudding. A bag-pudding the king did make, And stuffed it well with plums; And in it put great lumps of fat, As big as my two thumbs. The king and queen did eat thereof, And noblemen beside; And what they could not eat that night, The queen next morning fried.
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The King had a platter Of brisket and batter, The Prince had a Bellington bun, The Queen had a rose To put to her nose As soon as the dinner was done. Leroy F. Jackson
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King Kokem lay snoozing upon his brass bed— Oh, play an old tune on your fiddle! With shoes on his feet, and a crown on his head— Oh, tune up your rusty old fiddle! He dreamed of a land where the lions were tame, Where they fried their lamb-chops on a griddle, Where they called all the parrots and monkeys by name— Oh, play us a tune on your fiddle! [67]He dreamed of a sea filled with raspberry pop, With a cocoanut isle in the middle, Where the stones and the boulders had icing on top— Go strike up a
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O the Army of the Queen, The Army of the Queen, Some are dressed in turkey-red And some are dressed in green; A colonel and a captain, A corporal in between, Their guns are filled with powder And their swords are bright and keen; So toot your little trumpet For the Army of the Queen. Leroy F. Jackson
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The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings. Robert Louis Stevenson
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Crown the king with carrot tops, Dress him in sateen, Give him lots of licorice drops, With suckers in between. For he's a king with lots of power And awful, awful fierce, He kills a pirate every hour And washes in his tears. He rides a charger ten feet high, A dashing, dappled gray; Has ginger pop and lemon pie For breakfast every day. So get a royal canopy, The finest ever seen, And whiskers for his majesty, And tresses for the queen. Leroy F. Jackson
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Rock-a-bye, baby, thy 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.
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