Lyrics
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing
Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before a king?
The king was in his counting house, counting out his money
The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose
She made such a commotion, that little Jenny wren
Came down into the garden, and popped it on again
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing
Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before a king?