Nursery Rhyme. CXLV. Songs.

    Trip upon trenchers, and dance upon dishes,
    My mother sent me for some barm, some barm;
    She bid me tread lightly, and come again quickly,
    For fear the young men should do me some harm.
        Yet didn't you see, yet didn't you see,
        What naughty tricks they put upon me:

        They broke my pitcher,
            And spilt the water,
        And huff'd my mother,
            And chid her daughter,
    And kiss'd my sister instead of me.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DXCVIII. Local.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. DXXII. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Seasons

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLX. Love And Matrimony.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXXXIX. Games.

        [An exercise during which the fingers of the child are enumerated.]

    Thumbikin, Thumbikin, broke the barn,
    Pinnikin, Pinnikin, stole the corn.
    Long back'd Gray
    Carried it away.
    Old Mid-man sat and saw,
    But Peesy-weesy paid for a'.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCXCIII. Games.

    Intery, mintery, cutery-corn,
    Apple seed and apple thorn;
    Wine, brier, limber-lock,
    Five geese in a flock,
    Sit and sing by a spring,
    O-U-T, and in again.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CXXX. Songs.

    Oh, where are you going,
        My pretty maiden fair,
    With your red rosy cheeks,
        And your coal-black hair?
    I'm going a-milking,
        Kind sir, says she;
    And it's dabbling in the dew,
        Where you'll find me.

    May I go with you,
        My pretty maiden fair, &c.
    Oh, you may go with me,
        Kind sir, says she, &c.

    If I should chance to kiss you,
        My pretty maiden fair, &c.
    The wind may take it off again,
        Kind sir, says she, &c.

    And what is your father,
        My pretty maiden fair, &c.
    My father is a farmer,
        Kind sir, says she, &c.

    And what is your mother,
        My pretty maiden fair, &c.
  ...

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXLIII. Games.

        [The two following are fragments of a game called "The Lady of the Land," a complete version of which has not fallen in my way.]

    Here comes a poor woman from baby-land,
    With three small children in her hand:
    One can brew, the other can bake,
    The other can make a pretty round cake.
    One can sit in the garden and spin,
    Another can make a fine bed for the king;
    Pray ma'am will you take one in?

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCLXXXVII. Games.

        [A string of children, hand in hand, stand in a row. A child (A) stands in front of them, as leader; two other children (B and C) form an arch, each holding both the hands of the other.]

    A.    Draw a pail of water,
            For my lady's daughter;
            My father's a king, and my mother's a queen,
            My two little sisters are dress'd in green,
            Stamping grass and parsley,
            Marigold leaves and daisies.
    B.    One rush, two rush,
            Pray thee, fine lady, come under my bush.

        [A passes by under the arch, followed by the whole string of children, the last of whom is taken captive by B and C. The verses are repeated, until all are taken.]

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DCXVII. Relics.

    Girls and boys, come out to play,
    The moon doth shine as bright as day;
    Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
    And come with your playfellows into the street.
    Come with a whoop, come with a call,
    Come with a good will or not at all.
    Up the ladder and down the wall,
    A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
    You find milk, and I'll find flour,
    And we'll have a pudding in half an hour.

Unknown