Old King Cole

by Mother Goose

Old King Cole
Was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he:
 
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
 
Every fiddler, he had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers.
 
Oh, there's none so rare,
As can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.

  

  
  
 

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