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 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
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
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose