Grimatonics

(The app's jingle: the tune in major, and a phone ringing.)

Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for the master, one for the dame, But none for the little boy who cries in the lane. Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

Ding, ding, new job, have you any time? Yes sir, yes sir, all of mine. One for the app and one for the fee, But none for the little girl waiting up for me. Ding, ding, new job, ten miles in the cold, Yes sir, yes sir, do as you're told.

(The master) Baa, baa, black sheep, how low will you go? (The sheep) Yes sir, yes sir, lower than you know. (The master) One for the master, one for the code, But none for the little lamb who drives down the road. Baa, baa, black sheep, we know what you need. (The sheep) Yes sir, yes sir, thank you indeed.

(The app) Ding! Ding! Good job! Look at all that wool! (The driver) Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. (The app) Thanks for the shearing! Five stars for you! (The driver) Stars on my phone and holes in my shoe. (The app) Hungry and tired? Then less for the fare! (The driver) Yes sir, yes sir, I'll be there.

Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for the master, one for the dame, But none for the little boy who cries in the lane. Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any more? No sir, no sir, shorn to the core.

(The app) Ding! Ding! Good job! Look at all that wool! (The driver) Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. (Whispered) Bad habits are easier conquered today than tomorrow.

Up and down the old City Road, In and out the Eagle. And that's the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel.

Pawn it on a Monday morning, Buy it back on payday. Every penny's gone by Sunday. Pop goes the weasel.

All around the pawnbroker's door, Money chased the weasel. The lender thought 'twas all in fun. Pop goes the weasel.

(The pawnbroker) Bring your coat and bring your kettle, Bring your wedding ring, dear. Every week the price goes higher. Pop goes the weasel.

(The app, cheerfully) Buy it now and pay it later, In four easy payments. Nothing due until tomorrow. Pop goes the weasel! (The app, not cheerfully) Miss one payment, here's a late fee. Then they sell the debt to someone.

Up and down the empty high street, Payday lenders on the corner, In and out the pawnshop, Then another late fee. Pop goes the weasel.

Half the paycheck gone to landlords, Half to keep the lights on. And that's the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel.

All around the pawnbroker's door, Money chased the weasel. The lender thought 'twas all in fun. Pop goes the weasel.

London Bridge is falling down, Falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, My fair lady.

Build it up with wood and clay, Wood and clay, wood and clay. Wood and clay will wash away, My fair lady.

Give the tolls unto the Queen, To the Queen, to the Queen. Not a penny for the stone, My fair lady.

Winter ice will break the arch, Break the arch, break the arch. Five stone arches in the Thames, My fair lady.

(The heads on the gate) Thirty heads upon the gate, On the gate, on the gate. Tarred and boiled, we watch the toll, My fair lady.

Shareholders will take the toll, Take the toll, take the toll. Who will pay when concrete cracks? My fair lady.

Dividends go up and up, Up and up, up and up. Upkeep's going down and down, My fair lady.

Build it up with promises, Promises, promises. Every bridge is falling down, My fair lady.

(The voices tumble down, one after another) Falling down. (Alone) My fair lady.

(Three knocks at the window.)

(In Scots)

Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon, Upstairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-goon, Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock, Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?

Wee Willie Winkie stayed for the night, Upstairs and downstairs in the night-light, Tapping on no window, crying at no lock: He's inside the wee room, and he's watching the clock.

Wee Willie Winkie, wired up so high, Faces and footsteps in his glass eye, Searching all the neighbors' lenses on the block: Are the weans in their beds, for it's now ten o'clock?

Wee Willie Winkie, all the lights down, Watching the wee lass in her nightgown, Talking through the speaker, softly through the lock: Are the weans in their beds, for it's now ten o'clock? (Whispered) I'm your friend. I'm Santa.

Wee Willie Winkie sits in the class, Reading the wee notes that the bairns pass, Marking down the wee ones, sending for the cops, And they sell where they sleep to a shop round the block.

(Passed from voice to voice) Are the weans in their beds? (Everyone) For it's now ten o'clock? (Three knocks.)

Sing a song of sixpence,

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket 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 pecked off her nose.

Sing a song of billions, a mansion in the sky, Million little blackbirds stacked up so high. When the line was started, the birds began to sing; Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?

The king is in his counting-house, counting out the money, The board is in the board room, voting him the honey, The maid is in the warehouse, racing as she goes, When down came a blackbird and pecked (Alone) off her nose.

(Slowly, in a minor key) Sing a song of sixpence, the cost of doing trade, No little Jenny Wren came down to aid. When the maid was wounded, they called her body frail; Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?

(Alone, the first printing of 1744) Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye, Four and twenty naughty boys baked in a pie.

(The children chant "so many" all the way through.)

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children she didn't know what to do; She gave them some broth without any bread, And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

She went to the market to buy them some bread, When she came back home again the children were lying dead. She ran to the wright for a coffin so small, When she came back they were all lying laughing. (The children laugh.)

There was a young mother who lived in one room, She had so many children, the council said, "That'll do." No cot for the baby, she slept on the floor, And six weeks went by, and a year, and some more.

She went to the council to ask for a cot, When she came back home again the baby had gone to sleep. And other small babies in rooms like her own, And some of them never would see their first year.

And so many children and so many more, Children in rooms that are not their own, and nowhere to go; She gave them some broth without any bread, And kissed them all soundly and put them to bed.

Ring-a-ring o' roses, A pocket full of posies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down.

Ring-a-ring o' roses, A mask upon our faces, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all locked down.

Ring-a-ring o' roses, We've almost quite forgotten, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all get up.

Cows are in the meadow, The bird flu in their udders, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! Who's keeping watch?

Ring-a-ring o' roses, A rash upon the babies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! Small ones fall down.

(Hummed: the words are forgotten) We all fall down.

Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly! Your house is on fire, Fly! Your children will burn, All except one, Ann, underneath warming pan. Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly! Your house in the hills Burns! Your insurer's gone, Dropped you last year, now you can pay twice for less. Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly! The fire slept a week deep, Then woke in the wind, Down from the hills came at a run, house by house. Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly! They died in their cars, Some on foot on the road, Trapped on the hills, children in smoke, breath by breath. Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly! Your children will burn, Said the first book in print; Then they wrote "gone", softer to sing, safe to sell. Ladybird, fly!

Ladybird, fly!

(A marching drum: rataplan.)

Malbrough has gone to the war, oh, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, Malbrough has gone to the war, oh, And when will he come home?

He'll come back home by the Easter, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, The Easter comes and is gone, oh, She climbs the tower high.

She sees her page come a-running, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, All dressed in black, and he's crying, (The lady) What news, my pretty page?

(The page) Malbrough is dead and is buried, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, One bore his shield and one sabre, The last one carried none.

The soldiers went to the war, oh, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, And thousands more are now missing, (The lady) And who will tell their wives?

They bring the bodies back home, oh, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, But some come home with no name, oh, And some come home no more.

(Slowly; the drum stops) The ceremony is over, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine, And everybody goes home, oh, (The lady, alone) And some go home alone.

(An air-raid siren, sung.)

Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight, With lilies o'erspread is baby's wee bed. Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blest. Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blest.

Evening comes, and good night, with roses on top, With carnations round, slip under the sheet. At first light, if God wills, you will wake up again. At first light, if God wills, you will wake up again.

(The siren again.)

Lullaby and good night, on the bathroom floor, With the siren's sound, all the night along. At first light, if God wills, you will wake up again. At first light, if God wills, you will wake up again.

Lullaby and good night, how many before Did not wake at dawn, more each year than last. At first light, if code wills, you will wake up again. At first light, if God wills, you will wake up again.

Lullaby and good night, with angels in sight, Who show you a tree while you're sleeping deep. Sleep now, blissful and sweet, see paradise in dreams. Sleep now, blissful and sweet, see paradise in dreams.

(Oars.)

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; All that's past is gone, you know, the future's but a dream.

Row, row, row your boat, out on the dark sea; Far too many in one boat, and half of them went down.

Row, row, row your boat, in the stormy sea; Babies in their mothers' arms, in an iron boat, Life is but a dream.

Row, row, row your boat, weeks and weeks at sea; Many of them, never found, never came ashore, Life is but a dream.

(Sung as a round by four voices, fading away) Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

(The bells ring a peal.)

Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin's.

When will you pay me? say the bells at Old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells at Shoreditch.

When will that be? say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

(The bells ring a peal.)

Bailiffs and letters, say the bells of the council. You owe us your wages, say the bells of the taxman.

When will you pay me? say the bells at the bailiff's. Many long days, say the bells at the jail.

(A single bell tolls. Whispered, the bellman's verse of 1605:) All you that in the condemned hold do lie, Prepare you, for tomorrow you shall die; Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near. Past twelve o'clock!

Many a midnight, say the bells at the prison. With gas and with rifles, say the bells of the statehouse.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

(The children) Chip, chop, chip, chop, the last man is dead!

(The bell tolls twice.)

Who killed Cock Robin? I, said the Sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.

Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, with my little eye, I saw him die.

Who built it cheaply? I, said the maker, with my little shortcut, I did not kill them.

Who signed it off, then? I, said the checker, with my little pen, sir, I did not kill them.

Who let them live there? I, said the council, with my little budget, I did not kill them.

Who blamed the workers? I, said the software, with my little errors, I did not kill them.

Who saw them die, then? I, said the drone man, with my little camera, I watched them all die.

Who'll toll the bell? I, said the Bull, because I can pull, so, Cock Robin, farewell.

All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing, When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.

(Alone) The rest got away.