And when it was night, so sad was their plight, The sun it went down, and the stars gave no light. They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried, And the poor little things they lay down and died.
And when they were dead, the robins so red, Brought strawberry leaves, and over them spread. And all the day long, the branches among, They sang to them softly, and this was their song: _Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!_ _So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood._
The fox and his wife they had a great strife, They never ate mustard in all their whole life; They ate their meat without fork or knife, And loved to be picking a bone, e-oh!
The fox jumped up on a moonlight night; The stars they were shining, and all things bright; Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night For me to go through the town, e-oh!
The fox when he came to yonder stile, He lifted his ears and he listened awhile! Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile From this unto yonder wee town, e-oh!
The fox when he came to the farmer's gate, Who should he see but the farmer's drake; I love you well for your master's sake, And long to be picking your bone, e-oh!
The gray goose she ran round the haystack, Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat; You'll grease my beard and ride on my back From this into yonder wee town, e-oh!
The farmer's wife she jumped out of bed, And out of the window she popped her head: Oh, husband! oh, husband! the geese are all dead, For the fox has been through the town, e-oh!
The farmer he loaded his pistol with lead, And shot the old rogue of a fox through the head; Ah, ha! said the farmer, I think you're quite dead; And no more you'll trouble the town, e-oh!
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost; For want of the shoe, the horse was lost; For want of the horse, the rider was lost; For want of the rider, the battle was lost; For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost; And all for the want of a horseshoe nail!
A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds; And when the weeds begin to grow, It's like a garden full of snow; And when the snow begins to fall, It's like a bird upon the wall; And when the bird away does fly, It's like an eagle in the sky; And when the sky begins to roar, It's like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart, It's like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.