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 the king?”

The king was in his 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 pecked off her nose.



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