The lily has a smooth stalk,
Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her briar
Is lady of the land.

There's sweetness in an apple tree,
And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty

Is a rose upon a thorn.

When with moss and honey

She tips her bending briar, And half unfolds her glowing heart, She sets the world on fire.

Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.

I caught a little ladybird
That flies far away;

I caught a little lady wife
That is both staid and gay.

All the bells were ringing
And all the birds were singing,

When Molly sat down crying
For her broken doll:
O you silly Moll!

Sobbing and sighing

For a broken doll,

When all the bells are ringing, And all the birds are singing.

Wee wee husband,

Give me some money,

I have no comfits,

And I have no honey.

Wee wee wifie,

I have no money,

Milk, nor meat, nor bread to eat, Comfits, nor honey.