There was a little girlWho had a little curlRight in the middle of her forehead.When she was good, she was very, very good.And when she was “bad”,Her Papa loved her anyway.

Rock-a-bye Baby In the tree topWhen the wind blows The cradle will rock.When the bough breaksThe cradle will fallAnd Mama will catch you Cradle and all!

Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard To get her dear dog a bone.Though the cupboard was bare,When she focused elsewhereHer heart overflowed with fun!