I was going to say "Gee, you must have come from New York too, you know the same songs I do..." - but you (oT) did. So of course you do!
The version of Found a Peanut I grew up with had no mention of sleeping: the third line was "last night I found a peanut" (next verse "last night I cracked it open," next verse "last night it was rotten," etc). It finally ended by working its way around to "went to Hell", "didn't like it", "went walking", and finally inevitably "Found a peanut!" and here we go again from the top. Loud laughter, of course, and unable to continue...
But I must have come from further uptown, because when we did I've Got Sixpence, it was always
"...no pretty little girls to deceive me."
Then there was "The-bear-went-over-the-mountain-and-whaddaya-think-he-saw?." The verses of that went on to "the other side of the mountain" and "he saw another mountain...and whaddaya think he did?" . These songs, like "a hundred bottles of beer on the wall," somehow all had a way of becoming repetitious eventually. (BTW, it takes only a little over twenty minutes for all 100 bottles to fall off the wall.)
For those unfortunates out there with a deprived childhood [tongue-firmly-in-cheek-e], the song goes:
"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall,
A hundred bottles of beer,
If one of those bottles should happen to fall,
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall..."
(Repeat thusly down one bottle at a time, ad nauseum or until you get to [hallelujah!] "No bottles of beer on the wall...").
[Music supplied on request ;-) ]
These (bus-ride) songs, you understand, came mostly not from the sidewalks of New York itself as did the jump-rope or bounce-ball chants above, but rather from the summer camp or the bungalow colony/day camp in the Catskills.
