Nursery Rhyme. DCII. Local.

    Driddlety drum, driddlety drum,
    There you see the beggars are come;
    Some are here, and some are there,
    And some are gone to Chidley fair.

    Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born?
    Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
    Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.

    Little boy, pretty boy, where was you born?
    In Lincolnshire, master: come blow the cow's horn.
    A half-penny pudding, a penny pie,
    A shoulder of mutton, and that love I.

    At Brill on the Hill,
    The wind blows shrill,
        The cook no meat can dress;
    At Stow in the Wold
    The wind blows cold, -
        I know no more than this.

    Cripple Dick upon a stick,
        And Sandy on a sow,
    Riding away to Galloway,
        To buy a pound o' woo.

    I lost my mare in Lincoln lane,
        And couldn't tell where to find her,
    Till she came home both lame and blind,
        With never a tail behind her.