Says Tom Bolin.


Hark! hark! the dogs do bark,
The beggars have come to town;
Some in rags, and some in tags,
And some in velvet gowns.


Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his breeches on,
One stocking off, and one stocking on,
Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John.


As I was going to Derby upon a market day,
I met the finest ram, sir, that ever fed on hay,
On hay, on hay, on hay,
I met the finest ram, sir, that ever fed on hay.

This ram was fat behind, sir; this ram was fat before;
This ram was ten yards round, sir; indeed he was not more.
No more, no more, no more;
This ram was ten yards round, sir; indeed he was no more.

The horns grew on his head, sir, they were so wondrous high,
As I've been plainly told, sir, they reached up to the sky.
The sky, the sky, the sky,
As I've been plainly told, sir, they reached up to the sky.