Nursery Rhyme. DLXXI. Natural History.

    Jack Sprat's pig,
    He was not very little,
    Nor yet very big;
    He was not very lean,
    He was not very fat;
    He'll do well for a grunt,
    Says little Jack Sprat.

    I had a little hen, the prettiest ever seen,
    She washed me the dishes, and kept the house clean:
    She went to the mill to fetch me some flour;
    She brought it home in less than an hour;
    She baked me my bread, she brew'd me my ale,
    She sat by the fire and told many a fine tale.

    See, saw, Margery Daw,
    The old hen flew over the malt house,
    She counted her chickens one by one,
    Still she missed the little white one,
    And this is it, this is it, this is it.

    Snail, snail, shut out your horns;
        Father and mother are dead:
    Brother and sister are in the back yard,
        Begging for barley bread.

    Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
    His wife could eat no lean;
    And so, betwixt them both, you see,
    They lick'd the platter clean.

    On Christmas eve I turn'd the spit,
    I burnt my fingers, I feel it yet;
    The cock sparrow flew over the table;
    The pot began to play with the ladle.