**The Happy Little Sixpence**
In a quaint town where the cobblestones lay,
A sixpence danced in the light of day.
From the Mint it came, with a shimmer so bright,
To the market it went, in the morning light.
The old lady’s purse, though modest and thin,
Held the sixpence within, a symbol to grin.
For potatoes and onions, she traded with care,
But for flowers, she thought, she had some to spare.
“I’m only charging you sixpence,” said the flower man,
His smile as wide as the sky’s vast span.
“To cheer up your husband,” the old lady beamed,
With daisies in hand, to love she leaned.
The old man’s eyes, once weary and gray,
Lit up with joy, like the dawn of day.
“For me?” he whispered, his heart took flight,
“Yes, for you,” she said, “on this blessed night.”
Outside the house, with bread and buns,
Stood the baker’s boy, under setting suns.
“Can I have the sixpence?” he asked with glee,
“Certainly, sir,” she said, “it’s yours to be.” thanks said the boy and rode of on his bike