All around the houses, see the children run
See their happy faces, it seems they're having fun
Ring-a-ring-a-roses and a pocketful of flowers
Singing lots of nursery rhymes to pass away the hours
And sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds were flying in the sky
The children stopped their playing and looked into the 
air
And four and twenty blackbirds were coming very near
And as the birds drew nearer, the louder was their song
And bitter was their music and bitter was their song
And little Timmy Johnson, he got to fret and frown
Bless you, bless you, we all fall down
Little boy blue, don't blow your horn
There's no cow in the corn
Where is the boy who looks after the sheep
He's under the rubble fast asleep