[This goes on for many more verses, articles of furniture being mentioned in each succeeding verse.]

—Earls Heaton (Herbert Hardy).

IX.

X.

—Enborne, Berks. (Miss M. Kimber).

XI.

—Hartley Wintney, Winchfield, Hants (H. S. May).

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

(b) One child stands apart and personates the Mother. The other children form a line, holding hands and facing the Mother. They advance and retire singing the first, third, and alternate verses, while the Mother, in response, sings the second and alternate verses. While the last verse is being sung the children all run off; the Mother runs after them, catches them, and beats them. Either the first or last caught becomes Mother in next game. In the Shropshire game the Mother should carry a stick. In the Norfolk version the Mother sits on a form or bank, the other children advancing and retiring as they sing. After the last verse is sung the children try to seat themselves on the form or bank where the Mother has been sitting. If they can thus get home without the Mother catching them they are safe. The Kentish game is played with two lines of children advancing and retiring. This was also the way in which the London version (A. B. Gomme) was played. In the version sent by Mr. H. S. May a ring is formed by the children joining hands. One child stands in the centre—she represents the Mother. The ring of children say the first, third, and every alternate verse. The child in the centre says the second, fourth, and alternate verses, and the game is played as above, except that when the Mother has said the last verse the children call out, “Good job, too,” and run off, the Mother chasing them as above. The game does not appear to be sung.

(c) This game is somewhat of a cumulative story, having for its finish the making angry and tormenting of a mother. All the versions point to this. One interesting point, that of milk-pails, is, it will be seen, gradually losing ground in the rhymes. Milk-pails were pails of wood suspended from a yoke worn on the milkmaid’s shoulders, and these have been giving place to present-day milk-cans. Consequently we find in the rhymes only four versions in which milk-pails are used. In two versions even the sense of milking-can has been lost, and the South Shields version, sent me by little Miss Blair, has degenerated into “male-scales,” a thoroughly meaningless phrase. The Cowes version (Miss Smith) has arrived at “wash-pan.” The “burden” of the Chirbury version is “a rea, a ria, a roses,” and the Sheffield version is also remarkable: the “I, O, OM” refers, probably, to something now forgotten, or it may be the “Hi, Ho, Ham!” familiar in many nursery rhymes. The game seems to point to a period some time back, when milking was an important phase of the daily life, or perhaps to the time when it was customary for the maids and women of a village to go to the hilly districts with the cows (summer shealings) for a certain period of time. The references to domestic life are interesting. The scarcity of beds, the best or feather bed, and the children’s bed, seeming to be all those available. The feather bed is still a valued piece of household furniture, and is considered somewhat of the nature of a heirloom, feather beds often descending from mother to daughter for some generations. I have been told instances of this. Gregor, in Folk-lore of East of Scotland, p. 52, describes the Scottish box-bed. The “truckle bed” and “footman’s bed” probably refers to the small bed under a large one, which was only pulled out at night for use, and pushed under during the day. Illustrations of these beds and the children’s bed are given in old tales. The proximity of the pig-sty to the house is manifest. The mention of washing-tubs calls to mind the large wooden tubs formerly always used for the family wash. Before the era of laundresses washing-tubs must have constituted an important part of the family plenishing. Washing in the rivers and streams was also a thing of frequent occurrence, hot water for the purpose of cleansing clothes not being considered necessary, or in many cases desirable. Chambers gives a version of the game (Popular Rhymes, p. 36) and also Newell (Games, p. 166). Another version from Buckingham is given by Thomas Baker in the Midland Garner, 1st ser., ii. 32, in which the mother desires the daughter to “milk in the washing-tub,” and the words also appear very curiously tacked on to the “Three Dukes a-riding” game from Berkshire (Antiquary, xxvii. 195), where they are very much out of place.[Addendum]

Mineral, Animal, and Vegetable

This is more usually called “Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral.” See “Air, Fire, and Water.”

Minister’s Cat

This is apparently the same game as the well-known “I love my love with an A because she is amiable.” In this game every player has to repeat the same sentence, but using a different adjective, which adjective must begin with the letter A. Various sentences follow. At the next round the adjectives all begin with B; the next C, until a small story has been built up. Forfeits were exacted for every failure or mistake. The formula usually was—

I love my love with an A because she is (      ). I hate her with an A because she is (      ). I took her to the sign of the (      ), and treated her to (      ). The result was (      ).

Mollish’s Land

Cornish name for “Tom Tiddler’s Ground.”—Folk-lore Journal, v. 57.

Monday, Tuesday

This game belongs apparently to the ball games used for purposes of divination. Mr. Newell (Games, p. 181) describes a similar game to this, in which the player whose name is called drops the ball; he must pick it up as quickly as possible while the rest scatter. He then calls “Stand!” upon which the players halt, and he flings it at whom he pleases. If he misses his aim, he must place himself in a bent position with his hands against a wall until every player has taken a shot at him. The idea of naming children after the days of the week occurs also in the games of “Gipsy,” “Witch,” and “Mother, Mother, the Pot boils over.”

See “Ball,” “Burly Whush,” “Keppy Ball.”[Addendum]

Moolie Pudding

The game of “Deadelie;” one has to run with the hands locked and “taen” the others.—Mactaggart’s Gallovidian Encyclopædia.

See “Chickidy Hand,” “Deadelie,” “Hunt the Staigie,” “Whiddy.”

More Sacks to the Mill

A very rough game, mentioned in Dean Miles’ MS., p. 180 (Halliwell’s Dictionary). Lowsley (Berkshire Glossary) says this is “a favourite game with children at Christmas-time, when wishing for one of a romping character,” but he does not describe it further. Northall (English Folk Rhymes, p. 354) says that in Warwickshire and Staffordshire boys torture an unfortunate victim by throwing him on the ground and falling atop of him, yelling out the formula, “Bags to [on] the mill.” This summons calls up other lads, and they add their weight.[Addendum]

Mother, may I go out to Play?

I.

—London (Miss Dendy, from a maid-servant).

II.

III.

—Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

IV.

—Dorsetshire (Folk-lore Journal, vii. 219).

V.

[The rest is the same as in the last version, p. 393.]

—Dorsetshire (Folk-lore Journal, vii. 221-222).

VI.

VII.

—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

VIII.

IX.

(b) One girl is chosen to act as “Mother,” the rest of the players pretend to be her children, and stand in front of her, not in a line, but in a group. One of them, very frequently all the children ask her the first question, and the Mother answers. When she gives permission for the children to go out they all curtsey three times, and run off and pretend to play. They then return, and the rest of the dialogue is said, the Mother asking the questions and the children replying. At the end of the dialogue the Mother chases and catches them, one after the other, pretending to beat and punish them. In the Northants and Hurstmonceux games there appears to be no chasing. In the London version (Miss Dendy) only two children are mentioned as playing. When the Mother is chasing the girl she keeps asking, “Where’s my share of the silver penny?” to which the girl replies, “You may have the nut-shells.” In the Cornish version, when the Mother has caught one of the children, she beats her and puts her hands round the child’s throat as if she were going to hang her.

(c) Miss Courtney, in Folk-lore Journal, v. 55, says: “I thought this game was a thing of the past, but I came across some children playing it in the streets of Penzance in 1883.” It belongs to the cumulative group of games, and is similar in this respect to “Milking Pails,” “Mother, Mother, the Pot boils over,” &c. There seems to be no other object in the game as now played except the pleasures of teasing and showing defiance to a mother’s commands, and trying to escape the consequences of disobedience by flight, in order that the mother may chase them. The idea may be that, if she is “out of breath,” she cannot chastise so much. Mr. Newell (Games, p. 172) gives versions of a similar game.

Mother Mop

See “Jack, Jack, the Bread’s a-burning.”

Mother, Mother, the Pot Boils over

A number of girls choose one of their number to represent a witch, and another to be a mother. The Witch stands near the corner of a wall, so that she can peep round. Then the Mother counts the children by the seven days of the week, “Monday,” “Tuesday,” &c., and appoints another girl to act as guardian over them. She then pretends to go out washing, removing to a short distance so as to be within ear-shot of the other children. As soon as the Mother has gone, the old Witch comes and says, “Please, can I light my pipe?” Then the children say, “Yes, if you won’t spit on t’ hearth.” She pretends to light her pipe, but spits on the hearth, and runs away with the girl called Sunday. Then the Guardian, among the confusion, pretends to rush down stairs, and, failing to find Sunday, calls out, “Mother, mother, t’ pot boils over.” The Mother replies, “Put your head in;” the Guardian says, “It’s all over hairs;” the Mother says, “Put the dish-clout in;” the Guardian says, “It’s greasy;” the Mother says, “Get a fork;” the Guardian says, “It’s rusty;” the Mother says, “I’ll come mysen.” She comes, and begins to count the children, Monday, Tuesday, up to Saturday, and missing Sunday, asks, “Where’s Sunday?” the Guardian says, “T’ old Witch has fetched her.” The Mother answers, “Where was you?” “Up stairs.” The Mother says, “What doing?” “Making t’ beds.” “Why didn’t you come down?” “Because I had no shoes.” “Why didn’t you borrow a pair?” “Because nobody would lend me a pair.” “Why didn’t you steal a pair?” “Do you want me to get hung?” Then the Mother runs after her, and if she can catch her thrashes her for letting Sunday go. Then the Mother pretends to go out washing again, and the Witch fetches the other days of the week one by one, when the same dialogue is rehearsed.—Dronfield, Derbyshire (S. O. Addy).

This game was also played in London. The dramatis personæ were a mother, an eldest daughter, the younger children, a witch, and a pot was represented by another child. The Mother names the children after the days of the week. She tells her eldest daughter that she is going to wash, and that she expects her to take great care of her sisters, and to be sure and not let the old witch take them. She is also to look after the dinner, and be sure and not let the pot boil over. The Mother then departs, and stays at a little distance from the others. The eldest daughter pretends to be very busy putting the house to rights, sweeps the floor, and makes everything tidy; the younger children pretend to play, and get in the elder sister’s way. She gets angry with them, and pretends to beat them. Now, the girl who personates the Witch comes and raps with her knuckles on a supposed door. The Witch stooped when walking, and had a stick to help her along.

While the eldest sister pretends to look on the shelf for something, the Witch “dirties” the hearth, catches hold of Monday and runs off with her; and at this moment the pot boils over. The child who is the pot makes a “hissing and fizzing” noise. The daughter calls out—

The Mother here wrings her hands out of the water in the washing-tub and comes in. She looks about and misses Monday.

The Mother pretends to beat the eldest daughter, tells her to be more careful another time, and to be sure and not let the pot boil over. The eldest daughter cries, and promises to be more careful, and the Mother goes again to the wash-tub.

The same thing occurs again. The Witch comes and asks—

While the tinder-box is being looked for she runs off with Tuesday. Then the pot boils over, and the same dialogue is repeated. The Mother comes and finds Tuesday gone. This is repeated for all the seven children in turn, different articles, gridiron, poker, &c., being borrowed each time. Finally, the eldest daughter is taken off too. There is no one now to watch the pot, so it boils over, and makes so much noise that the Mother hears it and comes to see why it is. Finding her eldest daughter gone too, she goes after her children to the Witch’s house. A dialogue ensues between the Witch and the Mother. The Mother asks—

She then insists on entering the house to look for her children. The Witch will not admit her, and says—

This enrages the Mother, and she pushes her way into the supposed house, and looks about, and calls her children. She goes to one and says—

The Witch tells her it’s a barrel of pork.

Upon this Monday jumps up from her crouching or kneeling posture [the children were generally put by the Witch behind some chairs all close together in one corner of the room], and runs off, followed by all the others and their Mother. The Witch tries to catch one, and if successful that child becomes Witch next time.—A. B. Gomme.

A probable explanation of this game is that it illustrates some of the practices and customs connected with fire-worship and the worship of the hearth, and that the pot is a magical one, and would only boil over when something wrong had occurred and the Mother’s presence was necessary. The pot boils over directly a child is taken away, and appears to cease doing this when the Mother comes in. It is remarkable, too, that the Witch should want to borrow a light from the fire; the objection to the giving of fire out of the house is a well-known and widely-diffused superstition, the possession of a brand from the house-fire giving power to the possessor over the inmates of a house. The mention of the spitting on the hearth in the Sheffield version, and dirtying the hearth in the London version, give confirmation to the theory that the desecration of the fire or hearth is the cause of the pot boiling over, and that the spirit of the hearth or fire is offended at the sacrilege. The Witch, too, may be unable to get possession of a child until she has something belonging to the house. The journey of the Mother to the Witch’s house in search of her children, the obstacles put in her path, and the mention of the spilling of blood on the threshold, are incidents which have great significance. Why the “keeling” or skimming of the contents of the pot should be so difficult a task for the eldest daughter that the Mother is obliged to come herself, is not so clear; the skimming is of course to prevent the pot boiling over, and the pot may be supposed to take the place of the Mother or Guardian of the hearth, and tell when misfortune or trouble is at hand. Or the “boiling over” (which, if continued, would extinguish the fire and sully the stone) may be an offence to the hearth spirit, who ceases then to protect the inmates of the house. Fairies are said to have power over the inmates of a house when the threshold and kitchen utensils are left dirty and uncared for. Thus on the theories accompanying the ancient house ritual, this extraordinary game assumes a rational aspect, and it is not too much to suggest that this explanation is the correct one.

In the game of “Witch” practically the same incidents occur, and nearly the same dialogue, but the significant elements of pot-boiling and fire-protection do not appear in that game. It is not certain whether we have two independent games, or whether “The Witch” is this game, the incidents of pot-boiling and the fire-protection having been lost in its transmission to more modern notions. Although so closely allied, these games are not one at the present day, and are therefore treated separately. Newell (Games, p. 218) gives some versions of “Witch” which show a connection between that game and this. See “Keeling the Pot,” “Witch.”

Mount the Tin

See “New Squat.”[Addendum]

Mouse and the Cobbler