That Old Rhyme

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“A tiskit a tasket

A green and yellow basket

I wrote a letter to my love

And on the way I dropped it,

I dropped it,

I dropped it,

And on the way I dropped it

A little boy he picked it up and put it in his pocket.”

 

Who asked it, who asked it

My love has left in an iron casket

I sent her a letter a year ago

But she has yet to reply to it,

To reply to it,

To reply to it,

But she has yet to reply to it

A man dropped by and gave me your packet.

 

I think of it, I think of it

That old rhyme makes my sorrow skyrocket

The letter that I sent to her

The reply she never got to send it,

To send it,

To send it,

The reply she never got to send it

All that is left of you is this small locket.

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