COUNTING OUT NINE (Rhyme)
Sung by: Jewel Latham
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He’s a good fisherman, catches hens.
Puts ‘em in pens.
Some lays eggs, some none.
Wire, briar, limberlock,
Set your trap at twelve o’clock.
Set and sing ‘til the spring goes dry.
As I went over the hills,
I met my father, jewels and rings,
All other pretty things.
Black Jack, striped Tom,
Blows the bellows loud and strong.
Rotten dish, clout clear out and be gone.
You old dirty dish rag, you.