by Hans Pasco
Whadda you mean no fat, no lean
And that you’re gonna lick the platter clean?
Mary has a little lamb
And I have mint jelly. . .
Old lady Hubbard with her cupboard bare
Should have put some of her kids
In an orphanage or up for sale.
Seven, eight, line them straight.
Rock-a-bye baby why are you in the tree top?
When the bough breaks, your cradle’s gonna drop.
Momma might buy you a diamond ring,
But even for your supper you’d do better to sing.
Hey diddle-diddle, cats playing Cajun fiddle
Making the cow jump over the moon,
While the cat in the hat is an old buffoon
And old lady Leary lit a lantern in the shed.
So sit in the corner and eat your plumb,
See your thumb, gee you’re dumb!
The sheep are in the meadow, but
The cows are in the pasture laying chocolate pies.
London Bridge is falling down into the Colorado River,
Coz it’s now out in Arizona.
The mouse ran up Big Ben;
The Tower of London is still there, though.
On top of “Old Smokey” all covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meat ball when somebody sneezed;
One, two, I buckled my shoes,
Three, four, I’m out the door—after my meatball of course.
Raining and pouring and some old guy snoring,
He goes to bed and bumps his head,
Then he wouldn’t get up in the morning.
His traumatic brain injury wouldn’t allow for it.
Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posies,
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But names will always hurt me.
My Mommy is a Communist,
My Daddy is a spy,
And I’m the little dirty rat
Who told the F.B.I.