Nursery Rhyme. CLXXXIX. Riddles.

    Old father Graybeard,
        Without tooth or tongue;
    If you'll give me your finger,
        I'll give you my thumb.

        [A Cinder-sifter.]

    A riddle, a riddle, as I suppose,
    A hundred eyes, and never a nose.

    As I was going o'er Westminster bridge,
        I met with a Westminster scholar;
    He pulled off his cap an' drew off his glove,
        And wished me a very good morrow.
            What is his name?

    Every lady in this land
    Has twenty nails upon each hand,
    Five and twenty hands and feet,
    All this is true without deceit.

        [Pair of tongs.]

    Long legs, crooked thighs,
    Little head and no eyes.

        [Ann.]

    There was a girl in our towne,
    Silk an' satin was her gowne,
    Silk an' satin, gold an' velvet,
    Guess her name, three times I've tell'd it.