Little Jack Horner,

Sat in a corner,

No wonder he grew up strange;

He ate his dinner with the cat,

And his tea at the kitchen range;

He had his breakfast at bedtime,

His supper at crack of dawn,

His lunch he ate at the top of a tree,

Elevenses on the lawn.

By

John Cunliffe

Little Jack Horner

Sat in the corner,

Eating his Christmas pie

He put in his thumb,

And pulled out a plum,

And said, "what a good boy am I."