Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye 4 in twenty blackbirds baked in a pie When the pie was open the birds began to sing Wasn't 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 parlor eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden hanging up the clothes There came a little blackbird and pecked off her nose They sent for the kings doctor who sewed it on again He sewed it on so neatly a seem was never seen Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye 4 in twenty blackbirds baked in a pie