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 house,
Counting all the money;
The queen was in the parlor,
Eating bread with honey
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes;
When down came a blackbird
Who snapped off her nose!