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Sing a Song of Sixpence

Oh, sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie

When the pie was open, 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 came a blackbird and pecked off her nose

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