Nursery Rhyme. DXCIX. Local.

    King's Sutton is a pretty town,
        And lies all in a valley;
    There is a pretty ring of bells,
        Besides a bowling-alley:
    Wine and liquor in good store,
        Pretty maidens plenty;
    Can a man desire more?
        There ain't such a town in twenty.

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

Rewards

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. XXIX. Historical

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXII. Games.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CLIII. Songs.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Nursery Rhyme. DCX. Local.

    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.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DCVI. Local.

    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.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DCV. 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.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DCII. Local.

    Dick and Tom, Will and John,
    Brought me from Nottingham.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DX. Natural History.

        [A Dorsetshire version.]

    'Twas the twenty-ninth of May, 'twas a holiday,
    Four and twenty tailors set out to hunt a snail;
    The snail put forth his horns, and roared like a bull,
    Away ran the tailors, and catch the snail who wull.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXX. Love And Matrimony.

    Up street, and down street,
        Each window's made of glass;
    If you go to Tommy Tickler's house,
        You'll find a pretty lass.

Unknown