Jack and jill went up the hill so jack could lick jills fanny .. jack came down with quite a frown as jills a fucking tranny
Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead. Now it goes to school with her, between two chunks of bread.
So many nursery rhymes have such a dark nature to them such Ring Around Rosy, Rock a bye baby, Jack and Jill, London Bridge is Falling, Mary Mary Quite Contrary. They all talk of either destruction, death, or misery. Im so curious has to the origins of this and why, of all genres of music, why this has made its way to children?
Little Red had been dead for hours by the time I got there. I’d been out looking for the missing twins when the call came through on the radio. She just lay there on the floor of her Grandma's cottage, rigor mortis gripping her in a cold fist. Her own blood pooled out and around her like a cape.
She sprawled on her back with her eyes open, staring up at the ceiling in shock.
Forensics had found a typewritten note beside her. I squinted to read it through the plastic evidence bag.
> Little Red, you’ll end up dead,
> her grandma always warned her
> still she strayed
> and lost her way
> and I’m the one who found her.
I grimaced and set the note down on the evidence table. Forensics’ work this morning gathered in tidy rows of bloody plastic.
Grandma sat sobbing in the plaid armchair behind me. Blotted tissues mountained on the coffee table.
“I was only gone thirty minutes,” she insisted. “It was only thirty minutes.”
I exchanged glances with my partner, Bo. She was the good cop to my bad cop when it came to civilians. I don’t have what you’d call a pleasant bedside manner. If it was me, I’d tell the old lady to stop contaminating my crime scene.
Bo read the look on my face like it was a goddamn neon sign. She excused herself from the forensic tech she had been speaking to and crossed to the grandma’s side. She put a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. “Why don’t you show me your garden and tell me what you remember about this morning?”
“I can’t leave her like this,” the old woman said.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I muttered.
I didn’t have to look at Bo to feel the sharp teeth of her glare sink in to me.
“Excuse me, let me inform my partner where I’m going.” Bo kept that prim smile until she turned back to me, and her face darkened. “You’re lucky she’s too traumatized to remember to turn up her hearing aids.”
“You really missed your calling as an actress.”
“And you should have been a mortician.”
“Oh, don’t be cranky with me now.” I inclined my head toward the door, where the dead girl’s grandmother stood there looking as lost as a blind duckling. “You go get the story out of her. I’m not buying the sobbing act just yet.”
“Well, Jack, I suspect that’s because you have an evidence box where your heart should be.”
“And that’s what makes me so damn good at my job.” I pointed toward the bookshelf on the far wall. “Whoever wrote that note is a big fan of poetry. And over here I spy with my little eye some Wordsworth, Lon
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Heres a few:
Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pale of water.. Jack then cracked, his eyes went black, and he carried Jill's blood when he got her.
Little boy blue cant blow his horn. His mom's in her bedroom as she starts to mourn. Where's the little boy who looks after the sheep? He's down in the river about ten feet deep.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a dumb fall. When he hit the ground he turned to shreds. Kids slipped on him and bashed in their heads.
I have some more. but I just wanted to share :P
I'm not going to mention her name as I think a few people here know her name? and I don't want any directed insults if you guys find it weird.
The ones she sings the most, with lyrics included:
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 the counting-house
Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey,
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes.
Along came a blackbird
And snipped off her nose.
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
She is Partial to long songs.
The Hearse Song:
Don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by
For you may be the next to die
They wrap you up in bloody sheets
To drop you six feet underneath
They put you in a pinewood box
And cover you up with dirt and rocks
It all goes well for about a week
And then your coffin begins to leak
And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out
The worms play pinochle on your snout
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose
As you begin to decompose
A slimy beetle with demon's eyes
Chews through your stomach and out your sides
Your stomach turns to rancid grease
And puss pours out like melted cheese
You spread it on a slice of bread
And that's what you'll eat when you're dead
And the worms crawl out, the worms crawl in
The ones that crawl in are lean and thin
The ones that crawl out are fat and stout
Your eyes fall in and your hair falls out
Your brain turns into maggot pie
Your liver starts to liquify
And for the living, all is well
As you sink further into hell
And the flames rise up to drag you down
Into the fire where you will drown
Your skin melts off as you descend
And Satan tears you limb from limb
Your suffering will never end
And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out
They'll eat your guts and then shit them out
And when your bones begin to rot
The worms remain, but you do not
So don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by
For someday, you'll be the one to die
And when Death brings his cold despair
Ask yourself, "Will anyone care?"
Goosey Goosey Gander (The version I learned as a kid, words some people haven't heard):
Goosey goosey gander,
Whither shall I wander?
Upstairs and downstairs
And in my lady’s c
3/21/19
My daughter is singing nursery rhymes… and she’s counting down to something.
“Mary, Mary Quite Contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockleshells And pretty maids all in a row!”
My daughter, Lacey, learned this rhyme at school the other day. She has been singing it constantly. She started with the normal rhyme, but she started replacing “And pretty maids all in a row” with “And ten pretty maids in a row”. She first did this on Monday… It’s Thursday now and she has gotten down to “seven pretty maids”.
I tried asking her yesterday why she changed the last verse, and why she was counting down each day. We were sitting at the dining room table, me on my laptop and she coloring different pictures. Her reply was “Because, mommy, the maids are leaving.”
“Why are the maids leaving, Lacey?” I asked her after she said that.
She looked up from the drawing she was making and smiled, a tad creepily. “They’re going to heaven, mommy.”
This stopped me in my tracks. We aren’t a particularly religious family, and my daughter wasn’t really taught anything about the concepts of heaven and hell. I tried to laugh it off and said “Where did you hear that?”
“My friend, Margaret. She’s six just like me!”
What she said confused me. I am a very active parent in Lacey’s school and I regularly go to PTA meetings and volunteer. I knew the name of every student in her small class of ten, and I knew for sure that there wasn’t a child named Margaret. The school separated each grade and they had little to no interaction with each other, so unless she met this girl in passing, I had no idea who she could have met named Margaret. We didn’t have a relative named Margaret either. “Who’s Margaret?” I asked, “A new friend at school?”
She giggled, “No, mommy. She’s the girl under the tree! The big one in the backyard!” My eyes glanced away from my daughter to our backyard. From where we sat in the dining room, a large patio door gave a full view of our yard. I saw the tree that Lacey was talking about; a gorgeous oak tree that was nearly 150 years old. I had never seen a child other than Lacey playing under that tree.
When I tried to ask her more about this Margaret, she seemingly got bored and asked for a snack. I stood up and made my way to the kitchen to get something for her, ending our conversation. She continued to sing that rhyme.
I’m posting this on here because… I am really concerned. I don’t know who my daughter could possibly be talking to. I a
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