A Song of Sixpence

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocket full of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing

Wasn't that a dainty dish

To set before the king

The king was in his counting

Counting out his money

The queen was in the parlour

Eating bread and honey

The maid was in the garden

Hanging out the clothes

When down came a blackbird

And pecked off her nose

There was such a commotion

that little Jenny wren

Flew down into the garden

and put it back again