Sing a song a sixpence, a pocket full o' rye
Four and twenty blackbirds backed in a pie
And when the pie was opened the birds began to sing
It wasn't that a dainty dish to put before a king!
The king was in his counting house
counting out his money
the queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
the maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes
when down came a blackbird and
pecked off her nose!


Cheers for the new local cake people! And Death to the Blackbirds (more
pies for us that way)

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Ero, in the year 370 AF.