Sing a Song of Sixpence

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;
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 down flew a blackbird
And pecked off her nose.