# Mother Goose: Boy and the Sparrow

- Source: The Real Mother Goose (mother-goose.gutenberg.org), Public domain, Blanche Fisher Wright, illustrator, 1916, via Project Gutenberg
- Reading level: Ages 4 to 6
- Subjects: Poems, Animals, Food
- Topics: built, house, jack, malt, killed, tossed
- Length: 714 words, about 5 min
- Original: <https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>
- Page: <https://sprout.rootsofreason.org/r/mother-goose/mg-18-boy-and-the-sparrow>
- Open in Sprouts: <https://sprout.rootsofreason.org/?read=mother-goose/mg-18-boy-and-the-sparrow>

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A little cock-sparrow sat on a green tree,  
And he chirruped, he chirruped, so merry was he;  
A naughty boy came with his wee bow and arrow,  
Determined to shoot this little cock-sparrow.  
"This little cock-sparrow shall make me a stew,  
And his giblets shall make me a little pie, too."  
"Oh, no," says the sparrow "I won't make a stew."  
So he flapped his wings and away he flew.

## Old Woman, Old Woman

There was an old woman tossed in a basket,  
Seventeen times as high as the moon;  
But where she was going no mortal could tell,  
For under her arm she carried a broom.  
"Old woman, old woman, old woman,"said I,  
"Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?"  
"To sweep the cobwebs from the sky;  
And I'll be with you by-and-by."

## Two Pigeons

I had two pigeons bright and gay,  
They flew from me the other day.  
What was the reason they did go?  
I cannot tell, for I do not know.

## The First Of May

The fair maid who, the first of May,  
Goes to the fields at break of day,  
And washes in dew from the hawthorn-tree,  
Will ever after handsome be.

## Sulky Sue

Here's Sulky Sue,  
What shall we do?  
Turn her face to the wall  
Till she comes to.

## Saturday, Sunday

On Saturday night  
Shall be all my care  
To powder my locks  
And curl my hair.  
On Sunday morning  
My love will come in.  
When he will marry me  
With a gold ring.

## The House That Jack Built

This is the house that Jack built.  
This is the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the maiden all forlorn,  
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built  
This is the man all tattered and torn,  
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,  
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the priest all shaven and shorn,  
That married the man all tattered and torn,  
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,  
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the cock that crowed in the morn,  
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,  
That married the man all tattered and torn,  
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,  
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.  
This is the farmer sowing the corn,  
That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,  
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,  
That married the man all tattered and torn,  
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,  
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,  
That tossed the dog,  
That worried the cat,  
That killed the rat,  
That ate the malt  
That lay in the house that Jack built.

## Little Jenny Wren

Little Jenny Wren fell sick,  
Upon a time;  
In came Robin Redbreast  
And brought her cake and wine.  
"Eat well of my cake, Jenny,  
Drink well of my wine."  
"Thank you, Robin, kindly,  
You shall be mine."  
Jenny she got well,  
And stood upon her feet,  
And told Robin plainly  
She loved him not a bit.  
Robin being angry,  
Hopped upon a twig,  
Saying, "Out upon you! Fie upon you!  
Bold-faced jig!"

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## Picture credits

- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)
- Blanche Fisher Wright, Public domain (<https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10607/pg10607-images.html>)