Smiling girls and rosy boys. Come and buy my little toys. Monkeys made of gingerbread. And sugar horses painted red. Rich men's children running past. Their fathers dressed in hose. Golden hair and mud of many acres on their shoes. Gazing eyes and running wild. Past the stocks and over stiles. Kiss the window merry child. But come and buy my toys. You've watched your father plough the fields with a ram's horn. Sowed it wide with peppercorn and furrowed with a bramble thorn. Reaped it with a sharpened scyth threashed it with a quill. The miller told your father that he'd work it with the greatest will. Now your watching's over you must play with girls and boys. Leave the parsley on the stalls. Come and buy my toys. You shall own a cambric shirt. You shall work your father's land. But now you shall play in the market square. Till you'll be a man. Smiling girls and rosy boys. Come and buy my little toys. Monkeys made of gingerbread.