Sing-Song — Christina Rossetti
SING-SONG | Project Gutenberg You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org . If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title : Sing-song A nursery rhyme book Author : Christina Georgina Rossetti Illustrator : Arthur Hughes Release date : August 19, 2025 [eBook #76703] Language : English Original publication : London: MacMillan & Co., 1893 Other information and formats : www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76703 Credits : George A. Rawlyk Library, Crandall University, produced from scans generously made available by the Internet Archive. *** START OF ROSSETTI WITH ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR HUGHES ENGRAVED BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL LONDON MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1893 CONTENTS A baby's cradle with no baby in it A city plum is not a plum A diamond or a coal? A frisky lamb A house of cards A linnet in a gilded cage All the bells were ringing A motherless soft lambkin An emerald is as green as grass Angels at the foot A pin has a head, but has no hair A pocket handkerchief to hem A ring upon her finger A rose has thorns as well as honey A toadstool comes up in a night A white hen sitting Baby cry Baby lies so fast asleep Blind from my birth Boats sail on the rivers Bread and milk for breakfast Brown and furry Brownie, Brownie, let down your milk Clever little Willie wee Crimson curtains round my mother’s bed Crying, my little one, footsore and weary? Currants on a bush Dancing on the hill-tops Dead in the cold, a song-singing thrush “Ding a ding” Eight o’clock Ferry me across the water Fly away, fly away over the sea “Goodbye in fear, goodbye in sorrow” Growing in the vale Heartsease in my garden bed Hear what the mournful linnets say Hope is like a harebell trembling from its birth Hop-o’-my-thumb and little Jack Horner Hopping frog, hop here and be seen How many seconds in a minute? Hurt no living thing I am a King I caught a little ladybird I dreamt I caught a little owl I dug and dug amongst the snow If all were rain and never sun If a mouse could fly If a pig wore a wig If hope grew on a bush If I were a Queen If stars dropped out of heaven If the moon came from heaven If the sun could tell us half I have a little husband I have a Poll parrot I have but one rose in the world I know a baby, such a baby In the meadow—what in the meadow? I planted a hand Is the moon tired? she looks so pale January cold desolate “Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!” Lie a-bed Love me,—I love you Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Margaret has a milking-pail Minnie and Mattie Minnie bakes oaten cakes Mix a pancake Motherless baby and babyless mother Mother shake the cherry tree My baby has a father and a mother My baby has a mottled fist Oh, fair to see O Lady Moon, your horns point toward the east One and one are two On the grassy banks O sailor, come ashore Our little baby fell asleep O wind, where have you been O wind, why do you never rest Playing at bob cherry Pussy has a whiskered face Roses blushing red and white Rosy maiden Winifred Rushes in a watery place Seldom “can’t” Sing me a song Stroke a flint, and there is nothing to admire Swift and sure the swallow The city mouse lives in a house The days are clear The dear old woman in the lane The dog lies in his kennel The horses of the sea The lily has an air The lily has a smooth stalk The peach tree on the southern wall The peacock has a score of eyes There is but one May in the year There is one that has a head without an eye There’s snow on the fields The rose that blushes rosy red The rose with such a bonny blush The summer nights are short The wind has such a rainy sound Three little children Three plum buns Twist me a crown of wind-flowers Under the ivy bush Wee wee husband What are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow What does the bee do? What does the donkey bray about? What do the stars do? What is pink? a rose is pink What will you give me for my pound? When a mounting skylark sings When fishes set umbrellas up When the cows come home the milk is coming Where innocent bright-eyes daisies are Who has seen the wind? Why did baby die Wrens and robins in the hedge Your brother has a falcon Angels at the foot, And Angels at the head, And like a curly little lamb My pretty babe in bed. Love me,—I love you, Love me, my baby; Sing it high, sing it low, Sing it as may be. Mother’s arms under you, Her eyes above you; Sing it high, sing it low, Love me,—I love you. My baby has a father and a mother, Rich little baby! Fatherless, motherless, I know another Forlorn as may be: Poor little baby! Our little baby fell asleep, And may not wake again For days and days, and weeks and weeks But then he’ll wake again, And come with his own pretty look, And kiss Mamma again. “Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!” Crows the cock before the morn “Kikirikee! kikirikee!” Roses in the east are born. “Kookoorookoo! kookoorookoo!” Early birds begin their singing; “Kikirikee! kikirikee!” The day, the day, the day is springing. Baby cry— Oh fie!— At the physic in the cup: Gulp it twice And gulp it thrice, Baby gulp it up. Eight o’clock; The postman’s knock! Five letters for Papa; One for Lou, And none for you, And three for dear Mamma. Bread and milk for breakfast, And woollen frocks to wear, And a crumb for robin redbreast On the cold days of the year. There’s snow on the fields, And cold in the cottage, While I sit in the chimney nook Supping hot pottage. My clothes are soft and warm, Fold upon fold, But I’m so sorry for the poor Out in the cold. Dead in the cold, a song-singing thrush, Dead at the foot of a snowberry bush,— Weave him a coffin of rush, Dig him a grave where the soft mosses grow, Raise him a tombstone of snow. I dug and dug amongst the snow, And thought the flowers would never grow; I dug and dug amongst the sand, And still no green thing came to hand. Melt, O snow! the warm winds bl