Four and Twenty Blackbirds

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful 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 the 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 along came a blackbird and pecked off her nose The maid she started screaming; the queen said, 'My oh my!' The king said, 'This is truly a delicious tasting pie.' The maid got blood all down her dress; the queen said, 'Deary me!' The king asked cook if she could bake another pie for tea The maid she died: the queen remarked it was a dreadful waste The king was heard to comment on the merits of quince paste The maid was buried in the dell; the queen she got another The king took half a pie with him when visiting his mother