The Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin
Much like Babes in the Wood, it’s easy to see why The Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin fell out of favor over the years.
Scholars don’t know how old the song actually is, but the oldest text version dates to 1744.
And, like so many nursery rhymes, it’s terrifically twisted.
From Original Designs by
H. L. STEPHENS
(1865)
You can find it here. The bummer of this version is that the big real deal for imagery is the robin with the arrow in it’s breast—the Stephens version leaves it out.
Who killed Cock Robin?With my bow and arrow, I, said the Sparrow,I kill’d Cock Robin.
Who saw him die? With my little eye, I, said the Fly, I saw him die.
Who caught his blood? With my little dish, I, said the Fish, I caught his blood.
Who’ll make his shroud? With my thread and needle, I, said the Beetle, I’ll make his shroud.
Who’ll dig his grave? With my spade and trowel, I, said the Owl, I’ll dig his grave.
Who’ll bear the pall? Both the Cock and the Hen, We, said the Wren, We’ll bear the pall.
Who’ll carry him to the grave? If it’s not in the night, I, said the Kite, I’ll carry him to the grave.
Who’ll be the Parson? With my little book, I, said the Rook, I’ll be the Parson.
Who’ll sing a Psalm? As he sat in the bush, I, said the Thrush, I’ll sing a Psalm?
Who’ll be the Clerk? If it’s not in the dark, I, said the Lark, I’ll be the Clerk.
Who’ll be chief mourner? Because I mourned for my love, I, said the Dove, I’ll be chief mourner.
Who’ll carry the link? I’ll fetch it in a minute, I, said the Linnet, I’ll carry the link.
Who’ll toll the bell? Because I can pull, I, said the Bull, I’ll toll the bell.
All the birds in the air
When they heard the bell
Fell to sighing and sobbing
For poor Cock Robin.
While the cruel Cock Sparrow, Was hung on a gibbet
The cause of their grief, Next day, like a thief.
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