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!

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?