Just like me
“I went up one pair of stairs.”
“Just like me.”
“I went up two pairs of stairs.”
“Just like me.”
“I went into a room.”
“Just like me.”
“I looked out of a window.”
“Just like me.”
“And there I saw a monkey.”
“Just like me.”
Jumping Jeremiah
Jeremiah jumped in the fire.
The fire was so hot, he jumped in the pot.
The pot was so little, he jumped in the kettle.
The kettle was black, he jumped in the crack.
The crack was so high, he jumped in the sky.
The sky was so blue, he jumped in a canoe.
The canoe was so deep, he jumped in the creek.
The creek was so shallow, he jumped in the tallow.
The tallow was so soft, he jumped in the loft.
The loft was so rotten, he jumped in the cotten.
The cotten was so white, he jumped all night.
Jolly red nose
Nose, nose, jolly red nose.
And what gave you the jolly red nose?
Nutmeg, ginger,
Cinnamon and cloves,
That’s what gave me a jolly red nose.
Jolly Miller
There was a Jolly Miller once
Lived on the river Dee.
He worked and sang from morn to night,
No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song forever
used to be,
“I care for nobody, no, not
Johnny’s Frolic
Ho! for a frolic!
Said Johnny the stout;
“There’s coasting and sledding;
I’m going out!”
Scarcely had Johnny
Plunged in the snow
When there came a complaint
Up from his toes
“We’re cold,” said the toes,
“I and the rest ;
There are ten of us freezing,
Standing abreast.”
Then up spoke an ear;
“My! but it’s labour
Playing in winter.
Eh, Opposite neighbour?”
“Pooh!” said his nose,
Angry and red;
“Who wants to tingle?
Go home to bed!”
Eight little fingers,
Four to a thumb,
All cried together,
“Johnny, we’re numb!”
But Johnny the stout
Wouldn’t listen a minute;
Never a snow-bank
But Johnny was in it.
Tumbling and jumping,
Shouting with glee,
Wading the snow-drifts
Up to his knee,
Soon he forgot them,
Fingers and toes,
Never once heeded
The ear and the nose.
Ah what a frolic!
All in a glow,
Johnny grew warmer
Out in the snow.
Often his breathing
Came with a joke;
“Blaze away, Johnny!
I’ll do the smoke.”
“And I’ll do the fire,”
Said Johnny the bold,
“Fun is the fuel
For driving off cold.”
And these two sons were brothers.
There was a man, he had two sons,
And these two sons were brothers.
John Wesley was the name of one,
And Charlie was the other’s.
Now these two brothers had a coat,
They bought it on Monday.
John Wesley wore it all the week,
And Charlie on a Sunday.
John Smith
Is John Smith within?
Yes, that he is.
Can he set a shoe?
Ay, marry, two.
Here a nail, there a nail,
Tick, tack, too.
John Gilpin
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the “Bell,” at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig;
He little dream’t when he set out,
Of running such a rig.
The wind did blow, the cloak
Like a streamer long
Till loop and buttons failing
At last it flew awa.
Said John: “It is my wedding day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton
And I should dine at ware.”
So turning to his horse he said:
“I am in haste to dine;
‘Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine.”
Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear:
For while he spake, a braying ass
Did sing both loud and clear.
Whereat his horse did snort as he
Had heard a lion roar,
And gallop’d off with all his might
As he had done before.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin’s hat and wig,
HE lost them sooner than at first–
For why? they were too big.
John Cook
John Cook he had a little grey mare;
he, haw, hum!
Her back stood up, and her bones they were bare;
he, haw, hum!
John was riding up Shunter’s Bank;
he, haw, hum!
And there his nag did kick and prank;
he, haw, hum!
John Cook was riding up Shunter’s Hill;
he, haw, hum!
His mare fell down and she made her will;
he, haw, hum!
The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf;
he, haw, hum!
If you want any more you my sing it yourself;
he, haw, hum!
John boatman
Call John the boatman,
Call, call again,
For loud flows the river
And fast falls the rain.
John is a good man, and sleeps very sound;
His oars are at rest, and his boat is aground.
Fast flows the river so rapid and deep;
The louder you call him the sounder he’ll sleep.
Jest ‘fore Christmas
Father calls me William,
sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie,
but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain’t a girl
- ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes, curls,
an’ things that ’s worn by Fauntleroy!
Love to chawnk green apples
an’ go swimmin’ in the lake
Hate to take the castor-ile
they give for bellyache!
‘Most all the time, the whole year round,
there ain’t no flies on me,
But jest ‘fore Christmas
I’m as good as I kin be!
Got a yeller dog named Sport,
sick him on the cat;
First thing she knows
she doesn’t know where she is at!
Got a clipper sled,
an’ when us kids goes out to slide,
‘Long comes the grocery cart,
an’ we all hook a ride!
But sometimes when the grocery man
is worrited an’ cross,
He reaches at us with his whip,
an’ larrups up his hoss,
An’ then I laff an’ holler,
“Oh, ye never teched me!”
But jest ‘fore Christmas
I’m as good as I kin be!
Gran’ma says she hopes
that when I git to be a man,
I’ll be a missionarer
like her oldest brother, Dan,
As was et up by the cannibuls
that lives in Ceylon’s Isle,
Where every prospeck pleases,
an’ only man is vile!
But gran’ma she has never been
to see a Wild West show,
Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone,
or else I guess she’d know
That Buff’lo Bill an’ cowboys
is good enough for me!
Excep’ jest ‘fore Christmas,
when I’m good as I kin be!
And then old Sport he hangs around,
so solemnlike an’ still,
His eyes they seem a-sayin’:
“What’s the matter, little Bill?”
The old cat sneaks down off her perch
an’ wonders what’s become
Of them two enemies of hern
that used to make things hum!
But I am so perlite
an’ tend so earnestly to biz,
That mother says to father:
“How improved our Willie is!”
But father, havin’
been a boy hisself, suspicions me
When, jest ‘fore Christmas,
I’m as good as I kin be!
For Christmas, with its lots an’ lots
of candies, cakes, an’ toys,
Was made, they say, for proper kids
an’ not for naughty boys;
So wash yer face an’ bresh yer hair,
an’ mind yer p’s and q’s,
An’ don’t bust out yer pantaloons,
and don’t wear out yer shoes;
Say “Yessum” to the ladies,
and “Yessur” to the men,
An’ when they’s company,
don’t pass yer plate for pie again;
But, thinkin’ of the things
yer’d like to see upon that tree,
Jest ‘fore Christmas
be as good as yer kin be!
Jenny Wren
As little Jenny Wren
Was sitting by the shed
She waggled with her tail,
And nodded with her head.
She waggled with her tail,
And nodded with her head,
As little Jenny Wren
Was sitting by the shed.
January brings the snow
January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes sharp and shrill,
Shakes the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daisies at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
June brings tulips, lillies, roses,
Fills the children’s hands with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm September brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Brown October brings the pheasant,
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves go whirling past.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire and Christmas treat.
Jack Sprat had a pig
Jack Sprat had a pig,
who was not very little
nor yet very big;
He was not very lean,
he was not very fat;
He’ll do well for a grunt,
says little Jack Sprat.
Jack Sprat could eat no fat
Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean,
And so between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.
Jack Jingle
Now what do you think
Of little Jack Jingle?
Before he was married
He used to live single.
But when he got tired
Of this kind of life,
He left off being single
And lived with his wife.
Little Jack Jelf
Little Jack Jelf
Was put on the shelf
Because he could not spell “pie”;
When his aunt, Mrs. Grace,
Saw his sorrowful face,
She could not help saying, “Oh, fie!”
And since Master Jelf
Was put on the shelf
Because he could not spell “pie,”
Let him stand there so grim,
And no more about him,
For I wish him a very good-bye!
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