Sing a song of six bands, a bucket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house, counting out his money The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird and packed up her nose Sing a song of six bands, a bucket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house, counting out his money The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird and packed up her nose