Sing A Song Of Sixpence, A Pocket Full Of Rye, Four And Twenty Black-Birds, Baked In A Pie When The Pie Was Open'D The Birds Began To Sing Was'Nt That A Dainty Dish To Set Before The King? The King Was In His Counting-House, Counting Out His Money. The Queen Was In The Parlour, Eating Bread And Honey. The Maid Was In The Garden, Hanging Out The Clothes; There Came A Little Blackbird, And Nipp'D Off Her Nose.