Billy Pringle

A poem by Walter Crane

Billy Pringle had a little pig,
When it was young it was not very big,
When it was old it lived in clover,
Now it's dead and that's all over.
Billy Pringle he lay down and died,
Betty Pringle she lay down and cried,
So there was an end of one, two, and three,
Billy Pringle he, Betty Pringle she, and the piggy wiggy wee.

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