Nursery Rhyme. CCXXXI. Riddles.

        [A Cinder-sifter.]

    A riddle, a riddle, as I suppose,
    A hundred eyes, and never a nose.

        [Teeth and Gums.]

    Thirty white horses upon a red hill,
    Now they tramp, now they champ, now they stand still.

        [A Well.]

    As round as an apple, as deep as a cup,
    And all the king's horses can't pull it up.

There was a man rode through our town,
    Gray Grizzle was his name;
His saddle-bow was gilt with gold,
    Three times I've named his name.

        [Cleopatra.]

    The moon nine days old,
    The next sign to cancer;
    Pat rat without a tail; -
    And now, sir, for your answer,

        [A pen.]

    When I was taken from the fair body,
        They then cut off my head,
        And thus my shape was altered;
    It's I that make peace between king and king,
        And many a true lover glad:
    All this I do and ten times more,
        And more I could do still,
    But nothing can I do,
        Without my guider's will.