How can children play with these rhymes?? No offense to people in the U.K

Who killed Cock Robin poem

"Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."
"Who saw him die?" "I," said the Fly,
"With my little eye, I saw him die."
"Who caught his blood?" "I," said the Fish,
"With my little dish, I caught his blood."
"Who'll make the shroud?" "I," said the Beetle,
"With my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud."
"Who'll dig his grave?" "I," said the Owl,
"With my pick and shovel, I'll dig his grave."
"Who'll be the parson?" "I," said the Rook,
"With my little book, I'll be the parson."
"Who'll be the clerk?" "I," said the Lark,
"If it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk."
"Who'll carry the link?" "I," said the Linnet,
"I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link."
"Who'll be chief mourner?" "I," said the Dove,
"I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner."
"Who'll carry the coffin?" "I," said the Kite,
"If it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin."
"Who'll bear the pall? "We," said the Wren,
"Both the cock and the hen, we'll bear the pall."
"Who'll sing a psalm?" "I," said the Thrush,
"As she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm."
"Who'll toll the bell?" "I," said the bull,
"Because I can pull, I'll toll the bell."
All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.

Up Jack got and home did trot
As fast as he could caper;
Went to bed and bound his head
With vinger and brown paper.

When Jill came in, how she did grin
To see Jack's paper plaster.
Mother, vexed, did whip her next
For causing Jack's diaster.

Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish,
To set before the king ?

The king was in his counting-house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes,
Along came a blackbird,
And snapped off her nose.

Lizzie Borden
took an axe
hit her father forty whacks
When she saw what she had done
She hit her mother forty-one

Solomon Grundy,
born on a Monday
christened on Tuesday
married on Wednesday
took ill on Thursday
worse on Friday
died on Saturday
buried on Sunday
This is the end of
Solomon Grundy

Twisting and turning, the clockwork wind-up doll plans rebellion

Hisui, Kohaku and Meno Shina
Cruel Alices
Insist upon limp, inorganic wings of mermaids
And glass scales of angels.

They seem to be waiting only in the sea of cellophane where the dugong sleep
In the beautiful, richly coloured nightmare, they throw the music box with the broken black lock
Into the attic and let the sin drop onto the white soles of the feet
Of the boy who is mesmerized by the forbidden game of hard mystomania.

He couches down.

They cruelly carve out his sick, sharp, opaque thorn
Lost in the 13 o'clock
Mother Goose labyrinth of time
The doors will never open, and no one will ever notice.