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
Was that not a tasty dish
To set before a 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 snapped off her nose!
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