Over the hill and over the dale, And over the bourn to Dawlish- Where gingerbread wives have a scanty sale And gingerbread nuts are smallish. Rantipole Betty she ran down a hill And kicked up her petticoats fairly; Says I I'll be Jack if you will be Gill- So she sat on the grass debonairly. Here's somebody coming, here's somebody coming! Says I 'tis the wind at a parley; So without any fuss any hawing and humming She lay on the grass debonairly. Here's somebody here and here's somebody there!...