Classic children's songs |
Oh, the grand old Duke of York,
he had ten thousand men.
He marched
them up the hill,
and he marched them down again.
And when they were up,
they were up;
And when they were down, they were down;
And when they
were only half way up,
they were neither up nor down.
This old man, he plays one,
He plays knick-knack on my thumb.
With a
knick-knack, paddy-wack, give a dog a bone.
This old man goes rolling
home.
Two-on my shoe. [Tap shoe.]
Three-on my knee. [Tap on
knee.]
Four-on the floor. [Touch the floor.]
Five-on my hive.
[Move hands as if brushing bees away from ears.]
Six-on my sticks.
[Tap knuckles of other hand.]
Seven-up to Devon. [Shake fist.]
Eight-on my pate. [Tap top of head.]
Nine-on my spine. [Touch
backbone.]
Ten-now and then. [Raise hands shoulder high, open and
close fists in rhythm.]
There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.
I don't know why she swallowed
a fly.
I guess she'll die.
There was an old lady who swallowed a spider
That wiggled and jiggled and
tickled insider her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
I don't
know why she swallowed a fly.
I guess she'll die.
There was an old lady who swallowed a bird.
How absurd! To swallow a
bird!
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider
That wiggled and
jiggled and tickled insider her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
I don't know why she swallowed a fly.
I guess she'll die.
[Continue verses.]
Cat . . . Imagine that! She swallowed a cat.
Dog . . . What a hog! She swallowed a dog.
Goat . . . She opened her
throat and in walked a goat.
Cow . . . I don't know how she swallowed that
cow.
There was an old lady, she swallowed a horse.
She DIED of course!
My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety
years on the floor.
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of
the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it
stopped, short, never to go again
When the old man died.
CHORUS
Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopped, short,
never to go again, when the old man died.
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent as a
boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share
both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the
door
With a blooming and beautiful bride.
But it stopped, short, never
to go again
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so
faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire:
At the
close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place, not a frown upon
its face,
And its hands never hung by its side.
But it stopped, short,
never to go again
When the old man died.
It rang in alarm in the dead of the night,
An alarm that for years had been dumb.
And we knew that his spirit was plumbing its flight,
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side
But it stopped, short, never to go again
When the old man died.