The Real Mother Goose

«·JOHN SMITH · FIVE TOES·»

SIMPLE SIMON

Simple Simon met a pieman,
  Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
  “Let me taste your ware.”

Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
  “Show me first your penny,”
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
  “Indeed, I have not any.”

Simple Simon went a-fishing
  For to catch a whale;
All the water he could find
  Was in his mother’s pail!

Simple Simon went to look
  If plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his fingers very much,
  Which made poor Simon whistle.

He went to catch a dicky bird,
  And thought he could not fail,
Because he had a little salt,
  To put upon its tail.

He went for water with a sieve,
  But soon it ran all through;
And now poor Simple Simon
  Bids you all adieu.

«·JOHN SMITH · FIVE TOES·»