Nursery Rhyme. DCLVIII. Relics.

    To market, to market, to buy a plum-cake,
    Back again, back again, baby is late;
    To market, to market, to buy a plum-bun,
    Back again, back again, market is done.

    The quaker's wife got up to bake,
        Her children all about her,
    She gave them every one a cake,
        And the miller wants his moulter.

    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.

    Around the green gravel the grass grows green,
    And all the pretty maids are plain to be seen;
    Wash them with milk, and clothe them with silk,
    And write their names with a pen and ink.

        [A marching air.]

    Darby and Joan were dress'd in black,
    Sword and buckle behind their back;
    Foot for foot, and knee for knee,
    Turn about Darby's company.

    High diddle doubt, my candle out,
        My little maid is not at home:
    Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog,
        And fetch my little maid home.