“Where are you going, my pretty maid?”
“I am going a-shimmying, sir,” she said.
“And may I go with you my pretty maid?”
“If it so please you, sir,” she said.
“May I kiss you, my pretty maid?”
“What is your income, sir?” she said.
“Sunday morning, my pretty maid.”
“Kid somebody else, sir,” she said.
* * * * *
Dickory, dickory dock,
A mouse ran up the clock;
But this clock, I find,
Was a different kind,
And her cries could be heard up the block.
* * * * *
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Sharing her good curds and whey;
They were hugging and kissing,
When her Ma found her missing
And frightened fond lover away.
* * * * *