Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye
I am a lovely blackbird, that flies through the sky
But when the day is over, we birds begin to sing
Wasn’t that a lovely day, to give my wife a ring.
My wife was in the family nest, seeing to the young
The ring was just a little worm, for the baby’s tum
But now I sit upon this roof, to let the others see
That life for me is at its best, my wife and all the family.
