What a lovely walk we’ve taken!
Let us dine on Beans and Bacon!”
So the Ducky, and the leetle
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads,
Till they toddled to their beds.
The Broom, the Shovel, the Poker, and the Tongs
The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
And they each sang a song, Ding-a-dong,
Ding-a-dong,
Before they went back in the dark.
Mr. Poker he sate quite upright in the coach,
Mr. Tongs made a clatter and clash,
Miss Shovel was dressed all in black (with a
brooch),
Mr. Broom was in blue (with a sash).
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
And they all sang a song!
“O Shovely so lovely!” the Poker he sang,
“You have perfectly conquered my heart!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong! If you’re pleased
with my song,
I will feed you with cold apple tart!
When you scrape up the coals with a delicate
sound
You enrapture my life with delight!
Your nose is so shiny! your head is so round!
And your shape is so slender and bright!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
Ain’t you pleased with my song?”
“Alas! Mr. Broom!» sighed the Tongs in his
song.
O is it because I’m so thin,
And my legs are so long – Ding-a-dong!
Ding-a-dong!
That you don’t care about me a pin?
Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,
Ah! why don’t you heed my complaint!
Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,
Because you are covered with paint?
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
You are certainly wrong!”
Mrs. Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,
“What nonsense you’re singing today!”
Said the Shovel, “I’ll certainly hit you a band!”
Said the Broom, “And I’ll sweep you away!”
So the Coachman drove homeward as fast as
he could,
Perceiving their anger with pain;
But they put on the kettle, and little by little,
They all became happy again.
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
There’s the end of my song.
The Nutcrackers and the Sugar-tongs
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And Nutcrackers said, “Don’t you wish we were able
Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
Must we drag on this stupid existence fo ever,
So idle and weary, so full of remorse, —
While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
Don’t you think we could ride without being instructed?
Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur? 
