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
Oh, 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

The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose

Oh, 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
Oh, wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
Oh, wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?