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02

SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye;

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,

The birds began to sing.

Wasn't that a dainty dish.

To set before a king?

The king was in the counting house,

Counting out his money;

The queen was in the parlor,

Eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes;

Down came a blackbird,

And nipped off her nose. 6jVxixLY2GCQOKGd3p5lkFXYfv6v8YeMuQBCpqqrORAfAjSwj2gRulCdwiU8okcd

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