My fire is out,
My little maid's not home!
I'll saddle my cock,
And bridle my hen,
And fetch my little maid home.
Home she came, tritty trot,|
She asked for the porridge she left in the pot;
Some she ate, and some she shod,
And some she gave to the truckler's dog;
She took up the ladle and knocked its head,
And now poor Dapsy dog is dead.
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