LITMIR.BIZ

      Eight fingers,

      Ten toes,

      Two eyes,

      And one nose.

      Baby said

      When she smelt the rose,

      "Oh! what a pity

      I've only one nose!"

      Ten teeth

      In even rows,

      Three dimples,

      And one nose.

      Baby said

      When she smelt the snuff,

      "Deary me!

      One nose is enough."

      Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,

      And a blithe little man was he.

      And he won the heart of a pretty mermaid

      Who lived in the deep blue sea.

      And every evening she used to sit

      And sing on the rocks by the sea,

      "Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,

      Won't you come out to me?"

      Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,

      And he opened his little door.

      And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped,

      Until he came down to the shore.

      And there on the rocks sat the little mermaid,

      And still she was singing so free,

      "Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,

      Won't you come out to me?"

      Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,

      And the mermaid, she made one too,

      And she said, "Oh! I never saw any one half

      So perfectly sweet as you!

      In my lovely home 'neath the ocean foam,

      How happy we both might be!

      Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,

      Won't you come down with me?"

      Little John Bottlejohn said, "Oh yes!

      I'll willingly go with you.

      And I never shall quail at the sight of your tail,

      For perhaps I may grow one too."

      So he took her hand, and he left the land,

      And plunged in the foaming main.

      And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,

      Never was seen again.

      Bring her here, my little Alice,

      Poor Jemima Brown!

      Make the little cradle ready!

      Softly lay her down!

      Once she lived in ease and comfort,

      Slept on couch of down;

      Now upon the floor she's lying,

      Poor Jemima Brown!

      Once she was a lovely dolly,

      Rosy-cheeked and fair,

      With her eyes of brightest azure

      And her golden hair;

      Now, alas! no hair's remaining

      On her poor old crown;

      And the crown itself is broken,

      Poor Jemima Brown!

      Once her legs were smooth and comely,

      And her nose was straight;

      And that arm, now hanging lonely,

      Had, methinks, a mate.

      And she was as finely dressed as

      Any doll in town.

      Now she's old, forlorn, and ragged,

      Poor Jemima Brown!

      Yet be kind to her, my Alice;

      'Tis no fault of hers

      If her wilful little mistress

      Other dolls prefers.

      Did she pull her pretty hair out?

      Did she break her crown?

      Did she pull her arms and legs off,

      Poor Jemima Brown?

      Little hands that did the mischief,

      You must do your best

      Now to give the poor old dolly

      Comfortable rest.

      So we'll make the cradle ready,

      And we'll lay her down;

      And we'll ask Papa to mend her,

      Poor Jemima Brown!

      Far down in the meadow the wheat grows green,

      And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;

      And this is the song that I hear them sing,

      While cheery and loud their voices ring:

      "'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!

      And it is for Alice's supper, ho! ho!"

      Far down in the valley the old mill stands,

      And the miller is rubbing his dusty white hands;

      And these are the words of the miller's lay,

      As he watches the millstones a-grinding away:

      "'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,

      And it is for Alice's supper, hi! hi!"

      Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,

      And Maggie is kneading the soft white dough,

      And this is the song that she's singing to-day,

      While merry and busy she's working away:

      "'Tis the finest dough, by near or by far,

      And it is for Alice's supper, ha! ha!"

      And now to the nursery comes Nannie at last,

      And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?

      'Tis a plate full of something all yellow and white,

      And she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:

      "'Tis the best bread-and-butter I ever did see!

      And it is for Alice's supper, he! he!"

      Butterfly,

      Flutter by,

      Through the summer air;

      Roses bloom,

      Sweet perfume

      Shedding everywhere;

      Robins sing,

      Bluebells ring

      Greeting to my dear,

      When

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