Came Doctor Tom-tit,
Saying, 'Really, good sirs,
It's only a fit.'"
Eats his mother's mustard."
Sold his bed and lay on straw,
Sold the straw and slept on grass
To buy his wife a looking-glass."
Come here and be killed."
A nursery-tale rhyme of Henry VIII.'s time:—
I bend my bow and shoote her I shall;
I put hir in my cloue, both fethers and all;
I layd my bridle on the shelfe.
If you will any more sing it yourself."
This one stayed at home,
This one had a sugar-stick,
This one had none,
And this one cried out wee, wee, wee,
I'll tell my mother when I get home."
And could not tell where to find them;
Let them alone and they'll come home,
Carrying their tails behind them."
The best man among them dare not touch her tail;
She put out her horns like a little Kyloe cow,
Run, tailors, run, or she'll kill you all e'en now."
And fed it on corn and hay,
There came a proud beggar
And swore he would wed her, and stole my little moppet away."
Three men in a tub,
The butcher, the baker, the candle-stick maker,
They all jumped out of a rotten potato."
Went to bed with his stockings on;
One shoe off, one shoe on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John."
The cow jumped over the moon,
The little dog laughed to see such fine sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon."
Yes, sir; yes, sir, three bags full,
One for the master, another for the maid,
And one for the little child that cried in the lane."
He comes to court your daughter Jane."
Home again, home again, jiggerty-jig.
Ride to the market to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggerty-jog."
Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup and drink it up,
And call your neighbours in."
By eating cold plum porridge,
The man in the moon came down too soon
To ask the way to Norwich."
A LANCASHIRE FRAGMENT.
What'll th' mammy do wi' thee?
Come sit on her lap, theart rosy and fat,
Dance a babby diddy."
The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Dickery, dickery, dock.
The clock struck three,
The mouse ran away,
Dickery, dickery, dock.
The clock struck ten,
The mouse came again,
Dickery, dickery, dock."
Ninety-nine times as high as the moon,
But where she was going no mortal could tell,
For under her arm she carried a broom.
'Old woman, old woman, old woman,' said I,
'Whither, ah! whither, whither so high?'
'Oh, I'm sweeping the cobwebs off the sky,
And I'll be with you by-and-by!'"
The wildest idea is suggested by the rhyme of—
And the kittens are gone to St. Paul's;
All the babies are bit, and the moon's in a fit,
And the houses are built without walls."
The economy of the little boy who lived all alone is seen in—
All the bread and cheese I got I put upon the shelf."
For my lady's daughter,
My father's a king and my mother's a queen,
My two little sisters are dressed up in green."
The baby game of tickling the palm of the hand will be remembered in—
First it runs that way, then it runs up there."
A PROVERB.
When you get married your trouble begins;
Trouble begins, trouble begins,
When you get married your trouble begins."
A COMPLIMENT.
Pinks are sweet, and so are you."
THE REVERSE.
The grass is green, and so are you."
What must he have?
Some brown bread and butter."
FOOTNOTES:
[I] South Devon.
CHAPTER XI.
SONGS.
"WILL THE LOVE THAT YOU'RE SO RICH IN."
And he said, 'Little maid, will you wed—wed—wed?
I have little more to say than will you—Yea or Nay?
For the least said is soonest mended—ded—ded—ded.'
'But what shall we have for to eat—eat—eat?
Will the love that you're so rich in
Make a fire in the kitchen,
Or the little God of Love turn the spit, spit, spit?'"
My master's lost his fiddling stick and doesn't know what to do.
Cock-a-doodle doo, what is my dame to do?
Till master finds his fiddling stick she'll dance without her shoe.
Sing doodle, doodle doo—Cock-a-doodle doo,
My dame will dance with you,
While master fiddles his fiddling stick
For dame and doodle doo."
The third-century monarch, King Cole, is seriously libelled in the nursery jingle of—
A merry old soul was he,
He called for his glass, he called for his pipe,
He called for his fiddlers three."
My little Dame Trot is not at home! Oh my!
But I'll saddle my cock and bridle my hen,
And fetch my little dame home again! Home again!
Home she came, tritty-ti-trot,
She asked for some dinner she left in the pot;
Some she ate and some she shod,
And the rest she gave to the truckler's dog.
She took up the ladle and knocked its head,
And now poor dapsy dog is dead!"
And his bullets they were made of lead,
He went to the brook and shot a little duck
Right through its head, head, head.
And bade her a good fire to make,
While he went to the brook where he shot the little duck
To see if he could shoot the little drake.
With its curly tail,
The little man made it his mark,
He let off his gun
But fired too soon,
And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack."
The Creole's slave-song to her infant is built on the same lines, and runs—
And myself a gun,
I would shoot you.
Bum! Bum! Bum!
Of mahogany,
I love you
As a hog loves mud."
And buried in cold harbour;
Some say he's alive again,
And 'prenticed to a barber."
I lent him to a lady, to ride a mile away.
She whipped him and she lashed him,
She rode him through the mire;
I would not lend my pony now
For all that lady's hire."
TOM, TOM, THE PIPER'S SON.
He learned to play when he was young;
But the only tune that he could play
Was 'Over the hills and far away.'
Over the hills and a great way off,
And the wind will blow my top-knot off.
That he pleased both the girls and boys,
And they stopped to hear him play
'Over the hills and far away.'
That those who heard him could never keep still;
Whenever they heard him they began to dance,
Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.
Tom took out his pipe and began to play;
So Doll and the cows danced the Cheshire cheese round,
Till the pail was broke and the milk spilt on the ground.
He used his pipe, she used her legs.
She danced, he piped, the eggs were all broke;
Dame Trot began to fret, Tom laughed at his joke.
Laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass;
Tom took out his pipe and played a tune,
And the jackass's load was lightened full soon."
"OH DEAR, WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE?"
Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Johnny's so long at the fair.
He promised to buy me a bunch of blue ribbons
To tie up my bonny brown hair."
SIMPLE SIMON.
For to catch a whale,
All the water he had got
Was in his mother's pail.
If plums grew on a thistle,
He pricked his fingers very much,
Which made poor Simon whistle.
To buy a piece of meat,
He tied it to his horse's tail
To keep it clean and sweet."
"I SAW A SHIP A-SAILING."
A-sailing on the sea,
And it was filled with pretty things
For baby and for me.
There were raisins in the cabin,
Sugar kisses in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold.
Gold—gold—gold!
The masts were made of gold.
A-sitting on the deck,
And these were little white mice,
With rings around their neck.
The captain was a duck,
With a jacket on his back,
And when the ship began to sail
The captain cried 'Quack! quack!'
Quack!—quack!—quack!
The captain cried 'Quack! quack!'"
DAVID THE WELSHMAN.
Taffy was a wicked thief,
Taffy came to my house
And stole a piece of beef.
I went to Taffy's house,
Taffy was in bed,
I got the poker
And hit him on the head."
Sung in derision along the Welsh borders on St. David's Day. Formerly it was the custom of the London mob on this day to dress up a guy and carry him round the principal thoroughfares. The ragged urchins following sang the rhyme of "Taffy was a wicked Welshman."
"MY FATHER HE DIED."
The historical value of nursery rhymes is incapable of being better illustrated than in the following old English doggerel:—
He left me six horses to drive out my plough,
With a wimmy lo! wommy lo!
Jack Straw, blazey boys.
Wimmy lo! wimmy lo! wob, wob, wob."
Mr. Halliwell dates it as of Richard II.'s time, and this much may be said for this opinion, that there is no greater authority than he on the subject of early English rhymes and carols. Mr. Halliwell also believes that of British nursery rhymes it is the earliest extant. There are those, however, who dissent from this view, holding that many of the child's songs sung to-day were known to our Saxon forefathers. In 1835 Mr. Gowler, who wrote extensively on the archæology of English phrases and nursery rhymes, ingeniously attempted to claim whole songs and tales, giving side by side the Saxon and the English versions. There certainly was a phonetic similarity between them, but the local value of the Saxon, when translated, reads in a strange way, being little more than a protest against the Church's teaching and influence.
"Who killed Cock Robin?" is given at length by Mr. Gowler, as well as many scraps of other nursery rhymes. Mr. Gowler seemed to claim that though the lettered language of each succeeding age fashions afresh, the Baby Kingdom knows no such vocal revolutions.
CHAPTER XII.
SCOTCH RHYMES.
The great and alluring exercise of "Through the needle-e'e, boys" has this immemorial rhyme:—
I met my father wi' gude will;
He had jewels, he had rings,
He had many braw things,
He'd a cat-and-nine-tails,
He'd a hammer wantin' nails.
Up Jock, down Tam,
Blaw the bellows, auld man,
Through the needle-e'e, boys!
Brother Jock, if ye were mine,
I would give you claret wine;
Claret wine's gude and fine,
Through the needle-e'e, boys!"
THE SCOTCH VERSION OF BRYAN O'LYNN.
Fell n' i' the fire in other's arms!
Oh, quo' the bunemost, I ha'e a het skin!!
It's hetter below, quo' Tam o' the Lin."
Sand your soo, ride away
To Galloway
To buy a pound o' woo."
Pan, pan, play,
And gi'e the bairn meal,
It's gotten nane the day."
Are God's cock and hen."
Auld man's deid ring;
Lie butt, lie ben,
Lie amang the dead men."
The above is said by Scotch children as a reproach to one who takes back what he gave.
A GRUESOME RIDDLE.
And my love she gave me licht;
I'll gi'e any mon a pint o' wine
That'll read my riddle right."
A person sitting in a chair made of the bones of a relation, drinking out of the skull, and reading by the light of a candle made from the marrow-bones.
Street game rhyme, something like the well-known "How many miles to Wimbledon?":—
How many miles to Babylon?
It's eight and eight and other eight,
Try to win these wi' 'candle licht.'"
To discover a particular person in the company wearing a ring, Scotch children of last century used to say—
Now 2, and then 2, and 4 come belive.
Now 1, and then 1, and 3 at a cast,
Now 1, and twise 2, and Jack up at last."
In the game of Hidee the laddies and lassies cry—
The greedy gled's seekin' ye."
"WHA'S YOUR DADDIE?"
Wha's your daddie?
I cam out o' a buskit, lady,
A buskit, lady's owre fine;
I cam out o' a bottle o' wine,
A bottle o' wine's owre dear;
I cam out o' a bottle o' beer,
A bottle o' beer's owre thick;
I cam out o' a gauger's stick,
A gauger's stick's butt and ben;
I cam out o' a peacock hen."
In Lancashire, where this rhyme is a popular one, the reading differs, "candlestick" being used for "gauger's stick."
I came out of a gentleman's hat;
A gentleman's hat is over-tall,
I came over the garden wall;
The garden wall is over-high,
An angel dropped me from the sky."
The Scotch "Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe" is a sad jumble of "Old Mother Hubbard" and "Little Blue Betty."
Who lived in a shoe,
She had so many bairns
She kenn'd na what to do.
To get them a coffin,
When she came back
They were a' lying laughin'.
To ring the bell,
The bell-rope broke,
And down she fell."
"THE MOON IS A LADY."
As queen of the kingdom of night;
The stars are her army she leads forth on high
As bright little soldiers of light.
Three glittering warriors bold;
And the Milky Way's studded with forces of stars
In numbers that cannot be told.
And chanticleer crows to the sun,
The moon will retire, and the stars in her wake
Will follow their queen every one."
R. A. Foster.[J]
FOOTNOTES:
[J] When I asked my friend, Robert Adams Foster, whose Boy Ballads are being read with unusual interest in Scotland, to write a Scotch lullaby, he sent me the above verses.
CHAPTER XIII.
A FAVOURITE NURSERY HYMN.
Known to the rustics of England, France, and Italy since the days of the great Charlemagne, has a peculiar history. Like many other rhymes of yore it is fast dying out of memory. The educational influences of the National Schools in the former part of this century, and the Board Schools at a later date, have killed this little suppliant's prayer, as well as most of the other rural rhymes and folk-lore tales handed down by mother to child.
The hymn, though still used in some parts of Northern England, and especially amongst the Nonconformists, as a child's evening ode of praise, runs—
Look upon this little child;
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee."
The next verse, a more modern addition, is—
Lamb of God, forbid it not;
In the kingdom of Thy grace
Give this little child a place."
Leo III. is the supposed author of the book in which it is found, viz., Enchiridion Leonis Papae. However, the Enchiridion was a book of magic, and not authorised by the Church of Rome, but used by spurious monks and charlatans, wizards and quacks, in their exploits amongst the credulous rural folk. It was full of charms, prayers, and rhymes to ward off evil spirits. The Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John verses are part of the same "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild." The Enchiridion was first published in 1532. This hymn was, in the main, derived from the White Paternoster, and handed down to posterity and preserved by the rustics.
THE LATIN VERSION OF THE VIRGIN'S LULLABY.
Cantat unigenito,
Dormi, puer, dormi! pater
Nato clamat parvulo:
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies.
Dormi matris jubilum;
Aurium cœlestis sonus.
Et suave sibilum!
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies.
Sternam fœnum violis,
Pavimentum hyacinthis
Et praesepe liliis
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies.
Convocabo protinus
Illis nulli sunt priores;
Nemo canit castius
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies."
CHAPTER XIV.
"THERE WAS A MAID CAME OUT OF KENT."
Dangerous be, dangerous be;
There was a maid came out of Kent,
Fayre, propre, small, and gent
As ever upon the ground went,
For so should it be."
Of authentic currency in Mary's time.
Martin Smart and his man, fodledum, bell."
Same date.
God bless the moon, and God bless me."
Child's saying.
Counting-out rhyme.
Be | cause C | D, E, F de | nied G a | favour;
H had a | husband with | I, J, | K and L;
M married | Mary, and | taught | her scholars | how to spell
A B C, D E F G, H I J K L M,
N O P Q, R S T U, V W X Y Z, Z, Z."
When the wind blows the cradle will rock."
A NURSERY TALE.
"I saddled my sow with a sieve of butter-milk, put my foot into the stirrup, and leaped up nine miles beyond the moon into the land of temperance, where there was nothing but hammers and hatchets and candlesticks, and there lay bleeding Old Noll. I let him lie and sent for Old Hipper Noll, and asked him if he could grind green steel five times finer than wheat flour. He said he could not. Gregory's wife was up a pear tree gathering nine corns of buttered beans to pay St. James's rent. St. James was in a meadow mowing oat cakes; he heard a noise, hung his scythe to his heels, stumbled at the battledore, tumbled over the barn door ridge, and broke his shins against a bag of moonshine that stood behind the stairs-foot door; and if that isn't true, you know as well as I all about it."
A penny to pay the baker;
A hop, a scotch, another notch—
Slitherum, slitherum, take her."
A verse repeated when playing at skimming shells or stones on the water of a pond or lake.