Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye. Forty thousand blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened the birds begin to sing. Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his court counting out his money. Someone (who, I have forgotten) was eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes. And out came a blackbird that pecked off whose nose?
YOUR NOSE?
Oops, There It Is.
Ye-e-eah
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