Nursery Rhyme. DXXXVIII. Natural History.

    There was a little one-eyed gunner
    Who kill'd all the birds that died last summer.

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

Cosmopolitan Woman, A

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CXCIII. Riddles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCXIII. Riddles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CLXXXIX. Riddles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Nursery Rhyme. DXV. Natural History.

    All of a row,
    Bend the bow,
    Shot at a pigeon,
    And killed a crow.

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Nursery Rhyme. DLXXIX. Natural History.

    Little cock robin peep'd out of his cabin,
    To see the cold winter come in,
            Tit, for tat, what matter for that,
            He'll hide his head under his wing!

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Nursery Rhyme. DXVII. Natural History.

    There was an owl lived in an oak,
        Wisky, wasky, weedle;
    And every word he ever spoke
        Was fiddle, faddle, feedle.

    A gunner chanced to come that way,
        Wisky, wasky, weedle;
    Says he, "I'll shoot you, silly bird."
        Fiddle, faddle, feedle.

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Nursery Rhyme. DLXXIII. Natural History.

    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.

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Nursery Rhyme. DXXXII. Natural History.

    Once I saw a little bird,
    Come hop, hop, hop;
    So I cried, little bird,
    Will you stop, stop, stop?
    And was going to the window,
    To say how do you do?
    But he shook his little tail,
    And far away he flew.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DLVIII. Natural History.

    Bobbin-a-Bobbin bent his bow,
    And shot at a woodcock and kill'd a yowe:
    The yowe cried ba, and he ran away,
    But never came back 'till midsummer-day.

Unknown