Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye, Four and 20 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 the 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. The down came a blackbird And pecked off her nose. ♪ Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye, Four and 20 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?