To Market, To Market



To Market, To Market.


                To market, to market, to buy a fat Pig;
                Home again, home again, dancing a jig.





                To market, to market, to buy a fat Hog;
                    Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

Leonard Brooke

Leonard Leslie Brooke was a British artist and writer, born on September 24, 1862. He is best known for his illustrations for children's books, including classic nursery rhymes and fairy tales such as 'Johnny Crow's Garden' and 'The Golden Goose Book.' His work brought a distinctive elegance and charm to the illustration of children's literature. In addition to his writing, his illustrations have been featured in works by other authors as well. He passed away on May 2, 1940.

Leonard Brooke

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

Good King Arthur

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

Goosey, Goosey Gander

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

Oranges And Lemons

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

English

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Nursery Rhyme. CCCCXXXIII. Jingles.

    To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
        Home again, home again, dancing a jig;
    Ride to the market to buy a fat hog,
        Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

Unknown

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep





Baa, Baa, Black Sheep.

                Baa, baa, Black Sheep,
                    Have you any wool?
                Yes, marry, have I,
                    Three bags full:



                One for my Master,
                    And one for my Dame,
                And one for the little boy
                    That lives in the lane!

Leonard Brooke

This pig

This pig went to market;
    This pig stayed at home;

This pig had a bit of meat;

And this pig had none;

This little pig cried
        Wee! wee! wee!
I can't find my way home.

Helen Beatrix Potter

Goosey, Goosey Gander




Goosey, Goosey Gander.


                Goosey, Goosey Gander,
                Where shall I wander?



                Upstairs, downstairs,
                And in my lady's chamber.



                There I met an old man
                    That would not say his prayers:
                I took him by the left leg,
                    And threw him downstairs.

Leonard Brooke

Market Day

With arms and legs at work and gentle stroke
That urges switching tail nor mends his pace,
On an old ribbed and weather beaten horse,
The farmer goes jogtrotting to the fair.
Both keep their pace that nothing can provoke
Followed by brindled dog that snuffs the ground
With urging bark and hurries at his heels.
His hat slouched down, and great coat buttoned close
Bellied like hooped keg, and chuffy face
Red as the morning sun, he takes his round
And talks of stock: and when his jobs are done
And Dobbin's hay is eaten from the rack,
He drinks success to corn in language hoarse,
And claps old Dobbin's hide, and potters back.

John Clare

Clare Market

In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there;
That I take a delight on a Saturday night
In walking that way and in viewing the sight.
For it's here that one sees all the objects that please--
New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,
For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,
And baubles galore while discretion enjoys--
But here I forbear, for I really despair
Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare.

A rich man comes down from the elegant town
And looks at it all with an ominous frown;
He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries
Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;
And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose
Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;
And free o...

Eugene Field