Sing a song of sixpence A pocket full of rye Five and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie When the pie was opened The birds began to sing Oh, wasn't that a lovely dish To put before the king? ♪ The king was in his counting-house Counting out his money The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird And pecked off her nose