Children’s Games (part 3)

Stole my watch and broke my chain.

How many pounds will set him free?

Three hundred pounds will set him free.

The half of that I have not got.

Then off to prison he must go.

—Crockham Hill, Kent (Miss E. Chase).

(b) This game is now generally played like “Oranges and Lemons,” only there is no “tug-of-war” at the end. Two children hold up their clasped hands to form an arch. The other children form a long line by holding to each other’s dresses or waists, and run under. Those who are running under sing the first verse; the two who form the arch sing the second and alternate verses. At the words, “What has this poor prisoner done?” the girls who form the arch catch one of the line (generally the last one). When the last verse is sung the prisoner is taken a little distance away, and the game begins again. At Clun the players form a ring, moving round. They sing the first and alternate verses, and chorus, “London Bridge is broken down.” Two players outside the ring run round it, singing the second and alternate verses. When singing “Penny loaves’ll get stole away,” one of the two outside children goes into the ring, the other remains and continues her part, singing the next verse. When the last verse is sung the prisoner is released. The Berkshire game (Miss Kimber) is played by the children forming two long lines, each line advancing and retiring alternately while singing their parts. When the last verse is begun the children form a ring and gallop around, all singing this last verse together. In the Cork version (Mrs. Green) the children form a circle by joining hands. They march round and round, singing the verses to a sing-song tune. When singing, “If the cock should meet a hen,” they all unclasp hands; two hold each other’s hands and form an arch. The rest run under, saying the last verse. The “arch” lower their hands and try to catch the last child.

(c) The analysis of the game-rhymes is on pp. 342-45. It appears from this analysis that the London version is alone in its faithful reflection of an actual building episode. Three other versions introduce the incident of watching by a man, and failing him, a dog or cock; while five versions introduce a prisoner. This incident occurs the greatest number of times. It is not surprising that the London version seems to be the most akin to modern facts, being told so near the spot indicated by the verses, and on this account it cannot be considered as the oldest of the variants. There remain the other two groups. Both are distinguished by the introduction of a human element, one as watchman, the other as prisoner. The watchman incident approaches nearer to modern facts; the prisoner incident remains unexplained by any appeal to modern life, and it occurs more frequently than the others. In only one case, the Shropshire, is the prisoner ransomed; in the others he is sent to prison. Besides this main line of criticism brought out by the analysis there is little to note. The Hurstmonceux version begins with taking lambs over London Bridge, and the Shropshire version with the players themselves going over; but these are doubtless foreign adjuncts, because they do not properly prefix the main incident of the bridge being broken. The Belfast version has a curious line, “Grant said the little bee or dee,” which the Cork version renders, “Gran says the little D.” To these there is now no meaning that can be traced, but they help to prove that the rhyme originated from a state of things not understood by modern players. In all the versions with the prisoner incident it comes quite suddenly, without any previous indication, except in the Kent version, which introduces the exclamation, “Here’s a prisoner I have got!” As the analysis shows the prisoner incident to be a real and not accidental part of the game, and the unmeaning expressions to indicate an origin earlier than modern players can understand, we can turn to other facts to see if the origin can be in any way traced.

ANALYSIS OF GAME-RHYMES.

No. Belfast. Halliwell. Liphook. Hurst-
monceux. Shrop-
shire. Kent. Enborne. Cork. Crockham Hill.

1. — — — Where are these great baa-lambs going? — — — — —

2. — — — My fair lady. — — — — —

3. — — — We are going to L. B. — — — — —

4. — — — — Over L. B. we go. — — — —

5. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. — L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down.

6. — — — — — — L. B. is falling down. — —

7. Grant said the little bee. — — — — — — Says the little D. —

8. — Dance o’er my lady lee. — — — — — — —

9. — — My fair lady. My fair lady. — My fair lady. My fair lady. Fair lady. My fair lady.

10. — With a gay lady. — — Gay ladies, gay. — — — —

11. Where I’d be. — — — — — — — —

12. — How shall we build it up again? — — — — — — —

13. Stones and lime will build it up. — Build it up with bricks and mortar. Mend it up with bricks and mortar. Build it up with lime and sand. — Build it up with mortar and bricks. Build it up with lime and stone. —

14. — — Bricks and mortar will not stay. — Lime and sand will wash away. — Mortar and bricks will waste away. Lime and stone would waste away. —

15. — — Build it up with penny loaves. Mend it up with penny loaves. Build it up with penny loaves. Build it up with penny loaves. — — Build it up with penny loaves.

16. — — Penny loaves will mould away. Penny loaves will wash away. Penny loaves’ll get stole away. Penny loaves will tumble down. — — Penny loaves will melt away.

17. — — — — — — Build it up with silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold.

18. — Silver and gold will be stole away. — — — — Silver and gold will be stolen away. Silver and gold would be stolen away. Silver and gold I have not got.

19. — Build it up with iron and steel. — — — — — — —

20. — Iron and steel will bend and bow. — — — — — — —

21. — — — Mend it up with pins and needles. — Mend it up with pins and needles. — — —

22. — — — Pins and needles they will break. — Pins and needles rust and bend. — — —

23. — Build it up with wood and clay. — — — — — — —

24. — Wood and clay will wash away. — — — — — — —

25. — Build it up with stone so strong. — — — — — — —

26. Get a man to watch all night. — — — — — — We’ll set a man to watch all night. Set a man to watch all night.

27. Perhaps that man might fall asleep. — — — — — Suppose the man should fall asleep. If the man should fall asleep. —

28. — — — — — Here’s a prisoner I have got. — — —

29. — — What has this poor prisoner done? What has this great prisoner done? O, what has my poor prisoner done? What’s the prisoner done to you? — — What has this poor prisoner done?

30. — — Stole my watch and lost my key. Stole a watch and lost the key. — Stole my watch and broke my chain. — — Stole my watch and broke my chain.

31. — — — — Robbed a house and killed a man. — — — —

32. — — — — — — Give him a pipe of tobacco to smoke. — —

33. — — — — — — Suppose the pipe should fall and break. — —

34. — — — — — — We’ll give him a bag of nuts to crack. — —

35. — — — — — — Suppose the nuts were rotten and bad. — —

36. Get a dog to watch all night. — — — — — — Set a dog to bark all night. —

37. If that dog should run away. — — — — — — If the dog should meet a bone. —

38. Give that dog a bone to pick. — — — — — — — —

39. — — — — — — — Set a cock to crow all night. —

40. — — — — — — — If the cock should meet a hen. —

41. — — — — What will you have to set her free? What will you take to let him out? — — How many pounds will set him free?

42. — — — — Fourteen pounds and a wedding gown. Ten hundred pounds will let him out. — — Three hundred pounds will set him free.

43. — — — — — Then a hundred pounds we have not got. — — The half of that I have not got.

44. — — Off to prison you must go. Off to prison you must go. — Then off to prison you must go. — — Then off to prison he must go.

45. — Huzza! it will last for ages long. — — — — — — —

46. — — — — — — — — —

47. — — — — Stamp your foot and let her go. — — — —

48. — — — — — — We’ll give him a horse to gallop around. — —

49. — — — — — — — Here comes my lord Duke, let everyone pass by but the very last one. —

No. Belfast. Halliwell. Liphook. Hurstmonceux. Shropshire.

1. — — — Where are these great baa-lambs going? —

2. — — — My fair lady. —

3. — — — We are going to L. B. —

4. — — — — Over L. B. we go.

5. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down.

6. — — — — —

7. Grant said the little bee. — — — —

8. — Dance o’er my lady lee. — — —

9. — — My fair lady. My fair lady. —

10. — With a gay lady. — — Gay ladies, gay.

11. Where I’d be. — — — —

12. — How shall we build it up again? — — —

13. Stones and lime will build it up. — Build it up with bricks and mortar. Mend it up with bricks and mortar. Build it up with lime and sand.

14. — — Bricks and mortar will not stay. — Lime and sand will wash away.

15. — — Build it up with penny loaves. Mend it up with penny loaves. Build it up with penny loaves.

16. — — Penny loaves will mould away. Penny loaves will wash away. Penny loaves’ll get stole away.

17. — — — — —

18. — Silver and gold will be stole away. — — —

19. — Build it up with iron and steel. — — —

20. — Iron and steel will bend and bow. — — —

21. — — — Mend it up with pins and needles. —

22. — — — Pins and needles they will break. —

23. — Build it up with wood and clay. — — —

24. — Wood and clay will wash away. — — —

25. — Build it up with stone so strong. — — —

26. Get a man to watch all night. — — — —

27. Perhaps that man might fall asleep. — — — —

28. — — — — —

29. — — What has this poor prisoner done? What has this great prisoner done? O, what has my poor prisoner done?

30. — — Stole my watch and lost my key. Stole a watch and lost the key. —

31. — — — — Robbed a house and killed a man.

32. — — — — —

33. — — — — —

34. — — — — —

35. — — — — —

36. Get a dog to watch all night. — — — —

37. If that dog should run away. — — — —

38. Give that dog a bone to pick. — — — —

39. — — — — —

40. — — — — —

41. — — — — What will you have to set her free?

42. — — — — Fourteen pounds and a wedding gown.

43. — — — — —

44. — — Off to prison you must go. Off to prison you must go. —

45. — Huzza! it will last for ages long. — — —

46. — — — — —

47. — — — — Stamp your foot and let her go.

48. — — — — —

49. — — — — —

No. Kent. Enborne. Cork. Crockham Hill.

1. — — — —

2. — — — —

3. — — — —

4. — — — —

5. L. B. is broken down. — L. B. is broken down. L. B. is broken down.

6. — L. B. is falling down. — —

7. — — Says the little D. —

8. — — — —

9. My fair lady. My fair lady. Fair lady. My fair lady.

10. — — — —

11. — — — —

12. — — — —

13. — Build it up with mortar and bricks. Build it up with lime and stone. —

14. — Mortar and bricks will waste away. Lime and stone would waste away. —

15. Build it up with penny loaves. — — Build it up with penny loaves.

16. Penny loaves will tumble down. — — Penny loaves will melt away.

17. — Build it up with silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold.

18. — Silver and gold will be stolen away. Silver and gold would be stolen away. Silver and gold I have not got.

19. — — — —

20. — — — —

21. Mend it up with pins and needles. — — —

22. Pins and needles rust and bend. — — —

23. — — — —

24. — — — —

25. — — — —

26. — — We’ll set a man to watch all night. Set a man to watch all night.

27. — Suppose the man should fall asleep. If the man should fall asleep. —

28. Here’s a prisoner I have got. — — —

29. What’s the prisoner done to you? — — What has this poor prisoner done?

30. Stole my watch and broke my chain. — — Stole my watch and broke my chain.

31. — — — —

32. — Give him a pipe of tobacco to smoke. — —

33. — Suppose the pipe should fall and break. — —

34. — We’ll give him a bag of nuts to crack. — —

35. — Suppose the nuts were rotten and bad. — —

36. — — Set a dog to bark all night. —

37. — — If the dog should meet a bone. —

38. — — — —

39. — — Set a cock to crow all night. —

40. — — If the cock should meet a hen. —

41. What will you take to let him out? — — How many pounds will set him free?

42. Ten hundred pounds will let him out. — — Three hundred pounds will set him free.

43. Then a hundred pounds we have not got. — — The half of that I have not got.

44. Then off to prison you must go. — — Then off to prison he must go.

45. — — — —

46. — — — —

47. — — — —

48. — We’ll give him a horse to gallop around. — —

49. — — Here comes my lord Duke, let everyone pass by but the very last one. —

(d) This game is universally acknowledged to be a very ancient one, but its origin is a subject of some diversity of opinion. The special feature of the rhymes is that considerable difficulty occurs in the building of the bridge by ordinary means, but without exactly suggesting that extraordinary means are to be adopted, a prisoner is suddenly taken. The question is, What does this indicate?

Looking to the fact of the widespread superstition of the foundation sacrifice, it would seem that we may have here a tradition of this rite. So recently as 1872, there was a scare in Calcutta when the Hooghly Bridge was being constructed. The natives then got hold of the idea that Mother Ganges, indignant at being bridged, had at last consented to submit to the insult on condition that each pier of the structure was founded on a layer of children’s heads (Gomme’s Early Village Life, p. 29). Formerly, in Siam, when a new city gate was being erected, it was customary for a number of officers to lie in wait and seize the first four or eight persons who happened to pass by, and who were then buried alive under the gate-posts to serve as guardian angels (Tylor’s Primitive Culture, i. 97). Other instances of the same custom and belief are given in the two works from which these examples are taken; and there is a tradition about London Bridge itself, that the stones were bespattered with the blood of little children. Fitzstephen, in his well-known account of London of the twelfth century, mentions that when the Tower was built the mortar was tempered with the blood of beasts. Prisoners’ heads were put on the bridge after execution down to modern times, and also on city gates.

These traditions about London, when compared with the actual facts of contemporary savagery, seem to be sufficient to account for such a game as that we are now examining having originated in the foundation sacrifice. Mr. Newell, in his examination of the game, gives countenance to this theory, but he strangely connects it with other games which have a tug-of-war as the finish. Now in all the English examples it is remarkable that the tug-of-war does not appear to be a part of the game; and if this evidence be conclusive, it would appear that this incident got incorporated in America. It is this incident which Mr. Newell dwells upon in his ingenious explanation of the mythological interpretation of the game. But apart from this, the fact that the building of bridges was accompanied by the foundation sacrifice is a more likely origin for such a widespread game which is so intimately connected with a bridge.

This view is confirmed by what may be called the literary history of the game. The verses, as belonging to a game, have only recently been recorded, and how far they go back into tradition it is impossible to say. Dr. Rimbault is probably right when he states “that they have been formed by many fresh additions in a long series of years, and [the game] is perhaps almost interminable when received in all its different versions” (Notes and Queries, ii. 338). In Chronicles of London Bridge, pp. 152, 153, the author says he obtained the following note from a Bristol correspondent:—“About forty years ago, one moonlight night in the streets of Bristol, my attention was attracted by a dance and chorus of boys and girls, to which the words of this ballad gave measure. The breaking down of the Bridge was announced as the dancers moved round in a circle hand in hand, and the question, ‘How shall we build it up again?’ was chanted by the leader while the rest stood still.” This correspondent also sent the tune the children sang, which is printed in the Chronicles of London Bridge. This was evidently the same game, but it would appear that the verses have also been used as a song, and it would be interesting to find out which is the more ancient of the two—the song or the game; and to do this it is necessary that we should know something of the history of the song. A correspondent of Notes and Queries (ii. 338) speaks of it as a “lullaby song” well known in the southern part of Kent and in Lincolnshire. In the Gentleman’s Magazine (1823, Part II. p. 232) appeared the following interesting note:—

The projected demolition of London Bridge recalls to my mind the introductory lines of an old ballad which more than seventy years ago I heard plaintively warbled by a lady who was born in the reign of Charles II., and who lived till nearly the end of that of George II. I now transcribe the lines, not as possessing any great intrinsic merit, but in the hope of learning from some intelligent correspondent the name of the author and the story which gave rise to the ballad, for it probably originated in some accident that happened to the old bridge. The “Lady Lea” evidently refers to the river of that name, the favourite haunt of Isaac Walton, which, after fertilising the counties of Hertford, Essex, and Middlesex, glides into the Thames.

London Bridge is broken down,
Dance over the Lady Lea;
London Bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady [la-dee].
Then we must build it up again.
What shall we build it up withal?
Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel will bend and break.
Build it up with wood and stone,
Wood and stone will fall away.
Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold will be stolen away.
Then we must set a man to watch,
Suppose the man should fall asleep?
Then we must put a pipe in his mouth,
Suppose the pipe should fall and break?
Then we must set a dog to watch,
Suppose the dog should run away?
Then we must chain him to a post.

The two lines in italic are all regularly repeated after each line.—M. Green.

Another correspondent to this magazine, in the same volume, p. 507, observes that the ballad concerning London Bridge “formed, in my remembrance, part of a Christmas Carol, and commenced thus—

Dame, get up and bake your pies,
On Christmas-day in the morning.

The requisition goes on to the dame to prepare for the feast, and her answer is—

London Bridge is fallen down,
On Christ-mas day in the morning, &c.

The inference always was, that until the bridge was rebuilt some stop would be put to the Dame’s Christmas operations; but why the falling of London Bridge should form part of a Christmas Carol at Newcastle-upon-Tyne I am at a loss to know.” Some fragments were also printed in the Mirror for November 1823; and a version is also given by Ritson, Gammer Gurton’s Garland. The Heimskringla (Laing, ii. 260, 261) gives an animated description of the Battle of London Bridge, when Ethelred, after the death of Sweyn, was assisted by Olaf in retaking and entering London, and it is curious, that the first line of the game-rhyme appears—

London Bridge is broken down,
Gold is won and bright renown;
Shields resounding,
War-horns sounding,
Hild is shouting in the din;
Arrows singing,
Mail-coats ringing,
Odin makes our Olaf win.

If this is anything more than an accidental parallel, we come back to an historical episode wherein the breaking down and rebuilding of London Bridge occur, and it looks as if the two streams down which this tradition has travelled, namely, first, through the game, and second, through the song, both refer to the same event.

Dr. Rimbault has, in his Nursery Rhymes, p. 34, reconstructed a copy of the original rhyme from the versions given by Halliwell and the Mirror, and gives the tune to which it was sung, which is reprinted here. The tune from Kent is the one generally used in London versions. The tune of a country dance called “London Bridge” is given in Playford’s Dancing Master, 1728 edition.[Addendum]

Long-duck

A number of children take hold of each other’s hands and form a half-circle. The two children at one end of the line lift up their arms, so as to form an arch, and call “Bid, bid, bid,” the usual cry for calling ducks. Then the children at the other end pass in order through the arch. This process is repeated, and they go circling round the field.—Addy’s Sheffield Glossary.

See “Duck Dance.”

Long Tag

See “Long Terrace.”

Long-Tawl

A game at marbles where each takes aim at the other in turn, a marble being paid in forfeit to whichever of the players may make a hit.—Lowsley’s Berkshire Glossary.

Long Terrace

Every player chooses a partner. The couples stand immediately in front of each other, forming a long line, one remaining outside of the line on the right-hand side, who is called the “Clapper.” The object of the game is for the last couple to reach the top of the line, each running on different sides, and keeping to the side on which they are standing. The object of the Clapper is to hit the one running on the right side of the line, which, if he succeeds in doing, makes him the Clapper, and the Clapper takes his place. [The next last couple would then presumably try and reach the top.]—East Kirkby, Lincs. (Miss K. Maughan).

A similar game to this is played at Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews). It is there called “Long Tag.” The players stand in line behind one another, and an odd one takes her place somewhere near the front; at a given signal, such as clapping of hands, the two at the back separate and try to meet again in front before the one on the watch can catch them; they may run where they please, and when one is caught that one becomes the one “out.”

See “French Jackie.”

Loup the Bullocks

Young men go out to a green meadow, and there on all-fours plant themselves in a row about two yards distant from each other. Then he who is stationed farthest back in the “bullock rank” starts up and leaps over the other bullocks before him, by laying his hands on each of their backs; and when he gets over the last one leans down himself as before, whilst all the others, in rotation, follow his example; then he starts and leaps again.

I have sometimes thought that we (the Scotch) have borrowed this recreation from our neighbours of the “Green Isle,” as at their wakes they have a play much of the same kind, which they call “Riding Father Doud.” One of the wakers takes a stool in his hand, another mounts that one’s back, then Father Doud begins rearing and plunging, and if he unhorses his rider with a dash he does well. There is another play (at these wakes) called “Kicking the Brogue,” which is even ruder than “Riding Father Doud,” and a third one called “Scuddieloof.”—Mactaggart’s Gallovidian Encyclopædia.

Patterson (Antrim and Down Glossary) mentions a game called “Leap the Bullock,” which he says is the same as “Leap-frog.”

Dickinson’s Cumberland Glossary Supplement, under “Lowp,” says it means a leap or jump either running or standing. The various kinds include “Catskip”—one hitch, or hop, and one jump; “Hitch steppin”—hop, step, and lowp; a hitch, a step, and a leap; “Otho”—two hitches, two steps, and a leap; “Lang spang”—two hitches, two steps, a hitch, a step, and a leap.

See “Accroshay,” “Knights,” “Leap-frog.”

Lubin

[Play]

—Hexham (Miss J. Barker).

[Play]

—Doncaster (Mr. C. Bell).

[Play]

—London (A. B. Gomme).

[Play]

—Dorsetshire (Miss M. Kimber).

[Play]

—Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

I.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all the right hands in,
Take all the right hands out,
Shake all the right hands together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all your left hands in,
Take all your left hands out,
Shake all your left hands together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all your right feet in,
Take all your right feet out,
Shake all your right feet together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all your left feet in,
Take all your left feet out,
Shake all your left feet together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all your heads in,
Take all your heads out,
Shake all your heads together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all the [Marys] in,
Take all the [Marys] out,
Shake all the [Marys] together,
And turn yourselves about.

Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
Here we dance lubin light,
Here we dance lubin, lubin, lubin,
On a Saturday night.

Put all yourselves in,
Take all yourselves out,
Shake all yourselves together,
And turn yourselves about.

—Oxford and Wakefield (Miss Fowler).

II.

II. Now we dance looby, looby, looby,
Now we dance looby, looby, light;
Shake your right hand a little,
And turn you round about.

Now we dance looby, looby, looby;
Shake your right hand a little,
Shake your left hand a little,
And turn you round about.

Now we dance looby, looby, looby;
Shake your right hand a little,
Shake your left hand a little,
Shake your right foot a little,
And turn you round about.

Now we dance looby, looby, looby;
Shake your right hand a little,
Shake your left hand a little,
Shake your right foot a little,
Shake your left foot a little,
And turn you round about.

Now we dance looby, looby, looby;
Shake your right hand a little,
Shake your left hand a little,
Shake your right foot a little,
Shake your left foot a little,
Shake your head a little,
And turn you round about.

—Halliwell (Popular Rhymes, p. 226).

III.

Fal de ral la, fal de ral la,
Hinkumbooby round about.

Right hands in and left hands out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, fal de ral la,
Hinkumbooby round about.

Left hands in and right hands out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, fal de ral la,
Hinkumbooby round about.

Right foot in and left foot out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, fal de ral la,
Hinkumbooby round about.

Left foot in and right foot out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

Heads in and backs out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

Backs in and heads out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

A’ feet in and nae feet out,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

Shake hands a’, shake hands a’,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

Good night a’, good night a’,
Hinkumbooby round about;
Fal de ral la, &c.

—Chambers (Popular Rhymes, pp. 137-139).

IV.

This is the way we wash our hands,
Wash our hands, wash our hands,
To come to school in the morning.

This is the way we wash our face,
Wash our face, wash our face,
To come to school in the morning.

Here we come dancing looby,
Lewby, lewby, li.

Hold your right ear in,
Hold your right ear out,
Shake it a little, a little,
And then turn round about.

Here we come dancing lewby,
Lewby, lewby, li, &c.

—Eckington, Derbyshire (S. O. Addy).

V.

How do you luby lue,
How do you luby lue,
How do you luby lue,
O’er the Saturday night?

Put your right hand in,
Put your right hand out,
Shake it in the middle,
And turn yourselves about.

—Lady C. Gurdon’s Suffolk County Folk-lore, p. 64.

[Repeat this for “left hand,” “right foot,” “left foot,” “heads,” and “put yourselves in.”]

VI.

Can you dance looby, looby,
Can you dance looby, looby,
Can you dance looby, looby,
All on a Friday night?

You put your right foot in,
And then you take it out,
And wag it, and wag it, and wag it,
Then turn and turn about.

—Addy’s Sheffield Glossary.

VII.

Here we dance luby, luby,
Here we dance luby light,
Here we dance luby, luby,
All on a Wednesday night.

—Ordsall, Nottinghamshire (Miss Matthews).

VIII.

Here we go lubin loo,
Here we go lubin li,
Here we go lubin loo,
Upon a Christmas night.

—Epworth, Doncaster (C. C. Bell).

IX.

Here we go looby loo,
Here we go looby li,
Here we go looby loo,
All on a New-Year’s night.

—Nottingham (Miss Winfield).

X.

Here we come looby, looby,
Here we come looby light,
Here we come looby, looby,
All on a Saturday night.

—Belfast (W. H. Patterson).

XI.

Here we come looping, looping [louping?],
Looping all the night;
I put my right foot in,
I put my right foot out,
I shake it a little, a little,
And I turn myself about.

—Hexham (Miss J. Barker).

XII.

Christian was a soldier,
A soldier, a soldier,
Christian was a soldier, and a brave one too.
Right hand in, right hand out,
Shake it in the middle, and turn yourself about.

—Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

XIII.

Friskee, friskee, I was and I was
A-drinking of small beer.
Right arms in, right arms out,
Shake yourselves a little, and little,
And turn yourselves about.

—Cornwall (Folk-lore Journal, v. p. 49).

XIV.

I love Antimacassar,
Antimacassar loves me.
Put your left foot in,
Put your right foot out,
Shake it a little, a little, a little,
And turn yourself about.

—Dorsetshire (Miss M. Kimber).

(b) A ring is formed and the children dance round, singing the first verse. They then stand till, sing the next verse, and, while singing, suit the action to the word, each child turning herself rapidly round when singing the last line. The first verse is then repeated, and the fourth sung in the same way as the second, and so on.

Another way of playing is that the children do not dance round and round. They form a ring by joining hands, and they then all move in one direction, about half way round, while singing the first line, “lubin;” then back again in the opposite direction, while singing the second line, “light,” still keeping the ring form, and so on for the third and fourth lines. In each case the emphasis is laid upon the “Here” of each line, the movement being supposed to answer to the “Here.”

The Dorsetshire version (Miss M. Kimber) is played by the children taking hands in pairs, forming a ring, and dancing round. At Eckington (S. O. Addy) the children first pretend to wash their hands, then their face, while singing the words; then comb their hair and brush their clothes; then they join hands and dance round in a ring singing the words which follow, again suiting their actions to the words sung.

In the Scottish version a ring is formed as above. One sings, and the rest join, to the tune of “Lillibullero,” the first line. As soon as this is concluded each claps his hand and wheels grotesquely, singing the second line. They then sing the third line, suiting the action to the word, still beating the time; then the second again, wheeling round and clapping hands. When they say “A’ feet in, and nae feet out,” they all sit down with their feet stretched into the centre of the ring.

(c) The other variants which follow the Halliwell version are limited to the first verse only, as the remainder of the lines are practically the same as those given in Miss Fowler’s version which is written at length, and three or four of these apparently retain only the verse given. A London version, collected by myself, is nearly identical with that of Miss Fowler, except that the third line is “Shake your —— a little, a little,” instead of as printed. This is sung to the tune given.

The incidents in this game are the same throughout. The only difference in all the versions I have collected being in the number of the different positions to be performed, most of them being for right hands, left hands, right feet, left feet, and heads; others, probably older forms, having “ears,” “yourselves,” &c. One version, from Eckington, Derbyshire, curiously begins with “washing hands and face,” “combing hair,” &c., and then continuing with the “Looby” game, an apparent “mix-up” of “Mulberry Bush” and “Looby.” Three more versions, Sporle, Cornwall, and Dorsetshire, also have different beginnings, one (Dorsetshire) having the apparently unmeaning “I love Antimacassar.”

(d) The origin and meaning of this game appears somewhat doubtful. It is a choral dance, and it may owe its origin to a custom of wild antic dancing in celebration of the rites of some deity in which animal postures were assumed. The Hexham version, “Here we come louping [leaping]” may probably be the oldest and original form, especially if the conjecture that this game is derived from animal rites is accepted. The term “looby,” “lubin,” or “luby” does not throw much light on the game. Addy (Sheffield Glossary) says, “Looby is an old form of the modern ‘lubber,’ a ‘clumsy fellow,’ ‘a dolt.’” That a stupid or ridiculous meaning is attached to the word “looby” is also shown by one of the old penances for redeeming a forfeit, where a player has to lie stretched out on his back and declare,

Here I lie
The length of a looby,
The breadth of a booby,
And three parts of a jackass.

The Scottish forms of the game bear on the theory of the game being grotesque. The fact of the players having both their arms extended at once, one behind and one in front of them, and the more frequent spinning round, suggest this. Then, too, there is the sudden “sit down” posture, when “all feet in” is required.

In the version given by Halliwell there is more difficulty in the game, and possibly more fun. This version shows the game to be cumulative, each player having to go through an additional antic for each verse sung. This idea only needs to be carried a little further to cause the players to be ridiculous in their appearance. This version would be more difficult to perform, and they would be exhausted by the process, and the constant motion of every member of the body. Attention, too, might be drawn to the word “Hinkumbooby” occurring in Chambers’s version. Newell (Games, p. 131) mentions that some sixty years ago the game was danced deliberately and decorously, as old fashion was, with slow rhythmical movement.[Addendum]

Lug and a Bite

A boy flings an apple to some distance. All present race for it. The winner bites as fast as he can, his compeers lugging at his ears in the meantime, who bears it as well as he can, and then he throws down the apple, when the sport is resumed (Halliwell’s Dictionary). Brogden’s Lincolnshire Provincial Words says “Luggery-bite” is a game boys play with fruit. One bites the fruit, and another pulls his hair until he throws the fruit away. The game is also played in Lancashire (Reliquary).

See “Bob-Cherry.”

Luggie

A boys’ game. In this game the boys lead each other about by the “lugs,” i.e., ears; hence the name (Patterson’s Antrim and Down Glossary). Jamieson says that the leader had to repeat a rhyme, and if he made a mistake, he in turn became Luggie. The rhyme is not recorded.

Luking

The West Riding name for “Knor and Spell.” Playing begins at Easter.—Henderson’s Folk-lore, p. 84.

See “Nur and Spell.”

Mag

A game among boys, in which the players throw at a stone set up on edge.—Barnes (Dorset Glossary).

Magic Whistle

All the players but three sit on chairs, or stand in two long rows facing each other. One player sits at one end of the two rows as president; another player is then introduced into the room by the third player, who leads him up between the two rows. He is then told to kneel before the one sitting at the end of the row of players. When he kneels any ridiculous words or formula can be said by the presiding boy, and then he and those players who are nearest to the kneeling boy rub his back with their hands for two or three minutes. While they are doing this the boy who led the victim up to the president fastens a string, to which is attached a small whistle, to the victim’s coat or jacket. It must be fastened in such a way that the whistle hangs loosely, and will not knock against his back. The whistle is then blown by the player who attached it, and the kneeling boy is told to rise and search for the Magic Whistle. The players who are seated in the chairs must all hold their hands in such a way that the victim suspects it is in their possession, and proceeds to search. The whistle must be blown as often as possible, and in all directions, by those players only who can do so without the victim being able to either see or feel that he is carrying the whistle with him.—London (A. B. Gomme).

This game is also called “Knight of the Whistle.” The boy who is to be made a Knight of the Order of the Whistle, when led up between the two rows of players, has a cloak put round his shoulders and a cap with a feather in it on his head. The whistle is then fastened on to the cloak. This is described by the Rev. J. G. Wood (Modern Playmate, p. 189). Newell (Games, p. 122) gives this with a jesting formula of initiation into knighthood. He says it was not a game of children, but belonged to an older age.

See “Call-the-Guse.”

Magical Music

A pleasant drawing-room evening amusement.—Moor’s Suffolk Words.

Probably the same as “Musical Chairs.”

Malaga, Malaga Raisins

A forfeit game. The players sat in a circle. One acquainted with the trick took a poker in his right hand, made some eccentric movements with it, passed it to his left, and gave it to his next neighbour on that side, saying, “Malaga, Malaga raisins, very good raisins I vow,” and told him to do the same. Should he fail to pass it from right to left, when he in his turn gave it to his neighbour, without being told where the mistake lay, he was made to pay a forfeit.—Cornwall (Folk-lore Journal, v. 50).

“Malaga raisins are very good raisins, but I like Valencias better,” is the saying used in the London version of this game, and instead of using a poker a paper-knife is used, and it is played at the table. Other formulæ for games of this kind are, “As round as the moon, has two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.” These words are said while drawing on a table with the forefinger of the left hand an imaginary face, making eyes, nose, and mouth when saying the words. The fun is caused through those players who are unacquainted with the game drawing the imaginary face with the right hand instead of the left. Another formula is to touch each finger of the right hand with the forefinger of the left hand, saying to each finger in succession, “Big Tom, Little Tom, Tommy, Tom, Tom.” The secret in this case is to say, “Look here!” before commencing the formula. It is the business of those players who know the game to say the words in such a way that the uninitiated imagine the saying of the words correctly with particular accents on particular words to be where the difficulty lies. If this is well done, it diverts suspicion from the real object of these games.—A. B. Gomme.

Marbles

Brand considers that marbles had their origin in bowls, and received their name from the substance of which the bowls were formerly made. Strutt (Sports, p. 384) says, “Marbles have been used as a substitute for bowls. I believe originally nuts, round stones, or any other small things that could easily be bowled along were used as marbles.” Rogers notices “Marbles” in his Pleasures of Memory, l. 137:—

“On yon gray stone that fronts the chancel-door,
Worn smooth by busy feet, now seen no more,
Each eve we shot the marble through the ring.”

Different kinds of marbles are alleys, barios, poppo, stonies. Marrididdles are marbles made by oneself by rolling and baking common clay. By boys these are treated as spurious and are always rejected. In barter, a bary = four stonies; a common white alley = three stonies. Those with pink veins being considered best. Alleys are the most valuable and are always reserved to be used as “taws” (the marble actually used by the player). They are said to have been formerly made of different coloured alabaster. See also Murray’s New English Dict.

For the different games played with marbles, see “Boss Out,” “Bridgeboard,” “Bun-hole,” “Cob,” “Hogo,” “Holy Bang,” “Hundreds,” “Lag,” “Long-Tawl,” “Nine Holes,” “Ring Taw.”

Mary Brown

I.

Here we go round, ring by ring,
To see poor Mary lay in the ring;
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see your dear mother go through the town.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise [from off the ground],
To see my poor mother go through the town.

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see your dear father go through the town.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise [from off the ground],
To see my dear father go through the town.

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see your dear sister go through the town.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise from off the ground,
To see my dear sister go through the town.

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see your dear brother go through the town.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise up from off the ground,
To see my dear brother go through the town.

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see your dear sweetheart go through the town.

I will rise, I will rise up from off the ground,
To see my dear sweetheart go through the town.

—Barnes, Surrey (A. B. Gomme).

II.

Rise up, rise up, Betsy Brown,
To see your father go through the town.

I won’t rise up upon my feet,
To see my father go through the street.

Rise up, rise up, Betsy Brown,
To see your mother go through the town.

I won’t rise up upon my feet,
To see my mother go through the street.

[Then follow verses for sister, brother, and lover. When this last is sung, she says—]

I will rise up upon my feet,
To see my lover go through the street.

—Ninfield, Sussex, about sixty years ago (Charles Wise).

III.

Rise daughter, rise daughter, off of your poor feet,
To see your dear mother lie dead at your feet.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise off of my poor feet,
To see my dear mother lie dead at my feet.

Rise daughter, rise daughter, off of your poor feet,
To see your poor father lie dead at your feet.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise off of my poor feet,
To see my poor father lie dead at my feet.

Rise daughter, rise daughter, off of your poor feet,
To see your dear sister lie dead at your feet.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise off of my poor feet,
To see my poor sister lie dead at my feet.

Rise daughter, rise daughter, off of your poor feet,
To see your poor brother lie dead at your feet.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise off of my poor feet,
To see my poor brother lie dead at my feet.

Rise daughter, rise daughter, off of your poor feet,
To see your dear sweetheart lie dead at your feet.

I will rise, I will rise off of my poor feet,
To see my dear sweetheart lie dead at my feet.

—Barnes, Surrey (A. B. Gomme).

IV.

Rise daughter, rise daughter,
Rise from off your knees,
To see your poor father lie
Down at yonder trees.

I won’t rise, I won’t rise,
From off my knees,
To see my poor father lie
Down at yonder trees.

[The verses are then repeated for mother, sister, brother, and sweetheart. When this is said the girl sings—]

I will rise, I will rise,
From off my knees,
To see my sweetheart lie
Down at yonder trees.

—Hurstmonceux, Sussex (Miss Chase).

V.

Here we all stand round the ring,
And now we shut poor Mary in;
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
And see your poor mother go through the town.

[Then follow verses the same as in the Barnes version, No. 1, and then—]

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
To see the poor beggars go through the town.

I will not stand up upon my feet
To see the poor beggars go through the street.

[Two other verses are sometimes added, introducing gentleman and ladies. All versions, however, conclude with the girl saying—]

Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown,
And see your poor sweetheart go through the town.

I will get up upon my feet,
To see my sweetheart go through the street.

—Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes, p. 218.

(b) The children form a ring, one child laying or kneeling down in the centre. The ring sing the first, third, fifth, and alternate verses; the girl in the middle answers with the second, fourth, and so on alternately. At the last verse the girl jumps up and breaks through the ring by force; another girl takes her place in the ring, and the game begins again. The Sussex version of “Mary Brown” (Chas. Wise) is played by the children standing in line and advancing and retiring towards the lying or kneeling child. The Barnes version of “Rise, Daughter” is also played in this way. The “daughter” lays down, and at the end of the game joins the line, and another lays down. In the Hurstmonceux version, when the last verse is sung, the girl in the middle rises and picks a boy out of the ring; he goes in the middle with her, and they kiss. The version given by Halliwell is played in the same way as the Barnes version.

(c) Halliwell (Game Rhymes, p. 219) gives a version of a Swedish ballad or ring dance-song, entitled “Fair Gundela,” he considers this may be a prototype of the English game, or that they may both be indebted to a more primitive original. The Swedish game rather gives the idea of a maiden who has sought supernatural assistance from a wise woman, or witch, to ask after the fate of those dear to her, and the English versions may also be dramatic renderings of a ballad of this character. Mr. Jacobs’ More English Fairy Tales, p. 221, considers this game to have originated from the Tale of the “Golden Ball.”

Mary mixed a Pudding up

Mary mixed a pudding up,
She mixed it very sweet,
She daren’t stick a knife in
Till John came home at neet [ = night].
Taste John, taste John, don’t say nay,
Perhaps to-morrow morning will be our wedding-day.

The bells shall ring and we shall sing,
And all clap hands together (round the ring).

Up the lane and down,
It’s slippery as a glass,
If we go to Mrs. ——
We’ll find a nice young lass.
Mary with the rosy cheeks,
Catch her if you can;
And if you cannot catch her,
We’ll tell you her young man.

—Hanging Heaton (Herbert Hardy).

A ring is formed by the children joining hands, one child in the centre. The first verse is sang. Two children from the ring go to the one in the centre and ask her who is her love, or as they say here [Yorks.], “who she goes with;” after that the rest is sung.

See “All the Boys.”

Merrils

See “Nine Men’s Morris.”

Merritot, or the Swing

This sport, which is sometimes called “Shuggy-shew” in the North of England, is described as follows by Gay:—

“On two near elms the slackened cord I hung,
Now high, now low, my Blouzalinda swung.”

So Rogers, in the Pleasures of Memory, l. 77:—

“Soar’d in the swing, half pleas’d and half afraid,
Through sister elms that wav’d their summer shade.”

Speght, in his Glossary, says, “‘Meritot,’ a sport used by children by swinging themselves in bell-ropes, or such like, till they are giddy.” In Mercurialis de Arte Gymnastica, p. 216, there is an engraving of this exercise.

Halliwell quotes from a MS. Yorkshire Glossary, as follows:—“‘Merrytrotter,’ a rope fastened at each end to a beam or branch of a tree, making a curve at the bottom near the floor or ground in which a child can sit, and holding fast by each side of the rope, is swung backwards and forwards.”

Baker (Northamptonshire Glossary) calls “Merrytotter” the game of “See-saw,” and notes that the antiquity of the game is shown by its insertion in Pynson, “Myry totir, child’s game, oscillum.”

Chaucer probably alludes to it in the following lines of the Miller’s Tale—

“What eileth you? some gay girle (God it wote)
Hath brought you thus on the merry tote.”

Merry-ma-tansa

[Play]

—Biggar (Wm. Ballantyne).

I.

Here we go round by jingo-ring,
Jingo-ring, and jingo-ring,
Here we go round by jingo-ring,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Come name the lad you like the best,
Like the best, like the best,
Come name the lad you like the best,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Guess ye wha’s the young gudeman,
The young gudeman, the young gudeman,
Come guess ye wha’s the young gudeman
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Honey’s sweet and so is he,
So is he, so is he,
Honey’s sweet and so is he,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

[Or—

Crab-apples are sour and so is he,
So is he, so is he,
Crab-apples are sour and so is he,
About the merry-ma-tansa.]

Can she bake and can she brew?
Can she shape and can she sew,
‘Boot a house can a’ things do?
About the merry-ma-tansa?

She can bake and she can brew,
She can shape and she can sew,
’Boot a house can a’ things do,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

This is the way to wash the clothes,
Wash the clothes, wash the clothes,
This is the way to wash the clothes,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

[Then follows verses for wringing clothes, ironing, baking bread, washing hands, face, combing hair, washing and sweeping the house, and a number of other things done in housekeeping. The boy then presents the girl with a ring, and they all sing—]

Now she’s married in a goud ring,
A gay goud ring, a gay goud ring,
Now she’s married in a goud ring,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

A gay goud ring is a dangerous thing,
A cankerous thing, a cankerous thing,
A gay goud ring is a dangerous thing,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Now they’re married we wish them joy,
Wish them joy, wish them joy,
Now they’re married we wish them joy,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Father and mother they must obey,
Must obey, must obey,
Father and mother they must obey,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

Loving each other like sister and brother,
Sister and brother, sister and brother,
Loving each other like sister and brother,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

We pray this couple may kiss thegither,
Kiss thegither, kiss thegither,
We pray this couple may kiss thegither,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

[If any lad was left without a partner, the ring sing—]

Here’s a silly auld man left alone,
Left alone, left alone,
He wants a wife and can’t get none,
About the merry-ma-tansa.

—Biggar (William Ballantyne).

II.

Here we go the jingo-ring,
The jingo-ring, the jingo-ring,
Here we go the jingo-ring,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Twice about, and then we fa’,
Then we fa’, then we fa’,
Twice about, and then we fa’,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Guess ye wha’s the young goodman,
The young goodman, the young goodman,
Guess ye wha’s the young goodman,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Honey is sweet, and so is he,
So is he, so is he,
Honey is sweet, and so is he,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

[Or—

Apples are sour, and so is he,
So is he, so is he,
Apples are sour, and so is he,
About the merry-ma-tansie.]

He’s married wi’ a gay gold ring,
A gay gold ring, a gay gold ring,
He’s married wi’ a gay gold ring,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

A gay gold ring’s a cankerous thing,
A cankerous thing, a cankerous thing,
A gay gold ring’s a cankerous thing,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Now they’re married, I wish them joy,
I wish them joy, I wish them joy,
Now they’re married, I wish them joy,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Father and mother they must obey,
Must obey, must obey,
Father and mother they must obey,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

Loving each other like sister and brother,
Sister and brother, sister and brother,
Loving each other like sister and brother,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

We pray this couple may kiss together,
Kiss together, kiss together,
We pray this couple may kiss together,
About the merry-ma-tansie.

—Chambers’ Popular Rhymes, pp. 132-134.

(b) At Biggar (Mr. Ballantyne) this game was generally played on the green by boys and girls. A ring is formed by all the children but one, joining hands. The one child stands in the centre. The ring of children dance round the way of the sun, first slowly and then more rapidly. First all the children in the ring bow to the one in the centre, and she bows back. Then they dance round singing the first and second verses, the second verse being addressed to the child in the centre. She then whispers a boy’s name to one in the ring. This girl then sings the third verse. None in the ring are supposed to be able to answer, and the name of the chosen boy is then said aloud by the girl who asked the question. If the name is satisfactory the ring sing the fourth verse, and the two players then retire and walk round a little. If the name given is not satisfactory the ring sing the fifth verse, and another child must be chosen. When the two again stand in the centre the boys sing the sixth verse. The girls answer with the seventh. Then all the ring sing the next verses, imitating washing clothes, wringing, ironing, baking bread, washing hands, combing hair, &c., suiting their actions to the words of the verses sung. The boy who was chosen then presents a ring, usually a blade of grass wrapped round her finger, to the girl. The ring then sing the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth verses. When all have chosen, if any lad is left without a partner, the last verse is sung.

The version recorded by Chambers is similar in action, but there are some important differences in detail. The centre child acts as mistress of the ceremonies. The ring of children dance round her, singing the verses. At the end of the first line of the second verse they all courtesy to her, and she returns the compliment. At the conclusion of this verse she selects a girl from the ring and asks her her sweetheart’s name, which is imparted in a whisper. Upon this the child in the centre sings the third verse, the ring dancing round as before. If the ring approves her choice, they sing the fourth verse as in the Biggar version, and if they disapprove, the fifth. Chambers does not say whether another child is selected, if this is the case; but it is probable, as he says, the marriage is finally concluded upon and effected by the ring singing the verses which follow. When singing the first line of the eighth verse all the ring unclasps hands for a moment, and each child performs a pirouette, clapping her hands above her head.

(c) It seems very clear from both the versions given that this is a ceremonial dance, round or at a place sacred to such ceremonies as betrothal and marriage. The version given by Chambers suggests this the more strongly, as the child in the centre acts as mistress of the ceremonies, or “go-between,” the person who was the negotiator between the parents on either side in bringing a marriage about. The courtesying and bowing of those in the ring to her may show respect for this office. On the other hand, there is the more important office of priest or priestess of “the stones” suggested by the action of the game, and the reverence to the centre child may be a relic of this. The fact that she asks a girl to tell her her sweetheart’s name, and then announces the name of the girl’s choice for approval or disapproval by the ring in both versions, points to the time when consent by relations and friends on both sides was necessary before the marriage could be agreed upon—the inquiry regarding the qualifications of the proposed wife, the recital of her housewifely abilities, and the giving of the ring by the boy to the girl are also betrothal customs. It is to be noted that it was a popular belief in ancient times that to wed with a rush-ring was a legal marriage, without the intervention of a priest or the ceremonies of marriage. Poore, Bishop of Salisbury (circa 1217), prohibited the use of them—

“With gaudy girlonds or fresh flowers dight
About her necke, or rings of rushes plight.”

—Spenser’s Queen.

And Shakespeare alludes to the custom in the lines—“As fit as ten groats for the hand of an attorney, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger.”—All’s Well that Ends Well. The rejoicing and bestowal of the blessing by the ring of friends give an almost complete picture of early Scotch marriage custom. A version of this game, which appeared in the Weekly Scotsman of October 16, 1893, by Edgar L. Wakeman, is interesting, as it confirms the above idea, and adds one or two details which may be important, i.e., the “choose your maidens one by one,” and “sweep the house till the bride comes home.” This game is called the “Gala Ship,” and the girls, forming a ring, march round singing—

Three times round goes the gala, gala ship,
And three times round goes she;
Three times round goes the gala, gala ship,
And sinks to the bottom of the sea.

They repeat this thrice, courtesying low. The first to courtesy is placed in the centre of the circle, when the others sing:—

Choose your maidens one by one,
One by one, one by one;
Choose your maidens one by one—
And down goes (all courtesy)
Merrima Tansa!

She chooses her maidens. They take her to a distance, when she is secretly told the name of her lover. The remainder of the girls imitate sweeping, and sing several stanzas to the effect that they will “sweep the house till the bride comes home,” when the bride is now placed within the circle, and from a score to a hundred stanzas, with marching and various imitations of what the lucky bride accomplishes or undergoes, are sung. Each one closes with “Down goes Merrima Tansa” and the head-ducking; and this wonderful music-drama of childhood is not concluded until the christening of the bride’s first-born, with—

Next Sunday morn to church she must gae,
A babe on her knee, the best of ’a—
And down goes Merrima Tansa!

Jamieson gives the game as a ring within which one goes round with a handkerchief, with which a stroke is given in succession to every one in the ring; the person who strikes, or the taker, still repeating this rhyme:—

Here I gae round the jingie ring,
The jingie ring, the jingie ring,
Here I gae round the jingie ring,
And through my merry-ma-tanzie.

Then the handkerchief is thrown at one in the ring, who is obliged to take it up and go through the same process. He also mentions another account of the game which had been sent him, which describes the game as played in a similar manner to the versions given by Chambers.

Stewart, in his Ben Nevis and Glencoe, p. 361, records the following rhyme:—

Here we go with merry shout,
Up and down and round about,
And dance a merry-ma-tandy,

but he does not describe the game in detail.[Addendum] [Addendum]

Milking Pails

[Play Monton, London version]

—Monton, Lancashire (Miss Dendy); London (A. B. Gomme).

[Play]

—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

I.

Mary’s gone a-milking,
Mother, mother,
Mary’s gone a-milking,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Take your pails and go after her,
Daughter, daughter,
Take your pails and go after her,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine.

Buy me a pair of new milking pails,
Mother, mother,
Buy me a pair of new milking pails,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Where’s the money to come from,
Daughter, daughter,
Where’s the money to come from,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Sell my father’s feather bed,
Mother, mother,
Sell my father’s feather bed,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

What’s your father to sleep on,
Daughter, daughter,
What’s your father to sleep on,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Put him in the truckle bed,
Mother, mother,
Put him in the truckle bed,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

What are the children to sleep on,
Daughter, daughter,
What are the children to sleep on,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Put them in the pig-sty,
Mother, mother,
Put them in the pig-sty,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

What are the pigs to lie in,
Daughter, daughter,
What are the pigs to lie in,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Put them in the washing-tubs,
Mother, mother,
Put them in the washing-tubs,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

What am I to wash in,
Daughter, daughter,
What am I to wash in,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Wash in the thimble,
Mother, mother,
Wash in the thimble,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Thimble won’t hold your father’s shirt,
Daughter, daughter,
Thimble won’t hold your father’s shirt,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine.

Wash in the river,
Mother, mother,
Wash in the river,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Suppose the clothes should blow away,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the clothes should blow away,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Set a man to watch them,
Mother, mother,
Set a man to watch them,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Suppose the man should go to sleep,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the man should go to sleep,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Take a boat and go after them,
Mother, mother,
Take a boat and go after them,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

Suppose the boat should be upset,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the boat should be upset,
Gentle sweet daughter o’ mine?

Then that would be an end of you,
Mother, mother,
Then that would be an end of you,
Gentle sweet mother o’ mine.

—London Nursemaid, 1876 (A. B. Gomme).

II.

Mary’s gone a-milking, a-milking, a-milking,
Mary’s gone a-milking, mother, dear mother of mine.

Where did she get her money from, daughter, daughter?
Where did she get her money from, daughter, dear daughter of mine?

[Then follow verses sung in the same manner, beginning with the following lines—]

Sold her father’s feather bed, feather bed.
What will your father lie on, lie on?
Lay him in the pig-sty, pig-sty.
Where will the pigs lie, daughter?
Lay them in the wash-tub, mother.
What shall I wash in, wash in?
Wash in a thimble, mother.
A thimble won’t hold my night-cap.
Wash by the sea-side, mother.
Suppose the clothes should blow away?
Get a boat and go after them, mother.
But suppose the boat should turn over?
Then that would be an end of you, mother.

—Bocking, Essex (Folk-lore Record, iii. 169).

III.

Mother, please buy me a milking-can,
A milking-can, a milking-can!
Mother, please buy me a milking-can,
With a humpty-dumpty-daisy!

[Then follow verses sung in the same manner, beginning—]

Where’s the money to come from, to come from?
Sell my father’s feather bed.
Where’s your father going to lie?
Lie on the footman’s bed.
Where’s the footman going to lie?
Lie in the cowshed.
Where’s the cows going to lie?
Lie in the pig-sty.
Where’s the pig going to lie?
Lie in the dolly-tub.
And what am I to wash in?
Wash in a thimble.
A thimble wunna hold a cap.
Wash in an egg-shell.
An egg-shell wunna hold a shirt.
Wash by the river-side.
Suppose the clothes should float away?
Get a boat and fetch them back.
Suppose the boat should overthrow?
Serve you right for going after them!

—Berrington, Oswestry, Chirbury (Burne’s Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 515).

IV.

Mother, will you buy me a milking-can,
A milking-can, a milking-can?
Mother, will you buy me a milking-can,
To me, I, O, OM?

Where’s the money to buy it with,
To buy it with, to buy it with,
Where’s the money to buy it with,
To me, I, O, OM?

[Then the following verses—]

Sell my father’s feather bed.
Where will your father sleep?
My father can sleep in the boys’ bed.
Where will the boys sleep?
The boys can sleep in the pig-sty.
Where will the pigs sleep?
The pigs can sleep in the wash-tub.
Where shall I wash my clothes?
You can wash them in a thimble.
A thimble is not large enough.
You can wash them in an egg-shell.
An egg-shell would not hold them.
You can wash them by the river side.
But what if I should fall in?
We’ll get a rope and pull you out,
To me, I, O, OM.

—Sheffield (S. O. Addy).

V.

Mother, come buy me two milking-pails,
Two milking-pails, two milking-pails,
Mother, come buy me two milking-pails,
O sweet mother o’ mine.

[Then verses beginning with the following lines—]

Where shall I get my money from,
O sweet daughter o’ mine?

Sell my father’s feather beds.
Where shall your father sleep?
Sleep in the servant’s bed.
Where shall the servant sleep?
Sleep in the washing-tub.
Where shall I wash the clothes?
Wash them in the river.
Suppose the clothes float away?
Take a boat and go after them.
Suppose the boat upsets?
Then you will be drownded.

—London (Miss Dendy).

VI.

Mother, come buy me a milking-can,
Milking-can, milking-can,
Mother, come buy me a milking-can,
O mother o’ mine.

Where can I have my money from,
O daughter o’ mine?

Sell my father’s bedsteads.
Where must your father sleep?
Sleep in the pig-sty.
Where must the pig sleep?
Sleep in the washing-tub.
What must I wash in?
Wash in your thimble.
What must I sew with?
Sew with your finger.
What will you say if I prick me?
Serve you right, serve you right.

—Monton, Lancashire (Miss Dendy).

VII.

Mother, will you buy me a pair of milking-cans,
Milking-cans, milking-cans,
Mother, will you buy me a pair of milking-cans,
O gentle mother of mine?

But where shall I get the money from?
Sell my father’s feather bed.
But where, O where, will your father lie?
Father can lie in the girls’ bed.
But where, O where, shall the girls then lie?
The girls can lie in the boys’ bed.
But where, O where, shall the boys lie?
The boys may lie in the pig-sty.
Then where, O where, will the pigs lie?
The pigs may lie in the washing-tub.
Then where, O where, shall we wash our clothes?
We can wash by the river side.
The tide will wash the clothes away.
Get the prop and follow them.

—Sheffield (Miss Lucy Garnett).

VIII.

Mother, buy some milking-cans,
Milking-cans, milking-cans.

Where must our money come from?
Sell our father’s feather bed.

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

—Earls Heaton (Herbert Hardy).

IX.

Buy me a milking-pail, my dear mother.
Where’s the money to come from, my dear daughter?
Sell father’s feather bed.
Where could your father sleep?
Sleep in the pig-sty.
What’s the pigs to sleep in?
Put them in the washing-tub.
What could I wash the clothes in?
Wash them in your thimble.
Thimble isn’t big enough for baby’s napkin.
Wash them in a saucer.
A saucer isn’t big enough for father’s shirt.
Wash by the river side, wash by the river side.

—Crockham Hill, Kent (Miss Chase).

X.

Please, mother, buy me a milking-can,
Milking-can, milking-can,
Please, mother, buy me a milking-can,
My dear mother.

Where can I get the money from?
Sell father’s feather bed.
Where shall your father sleep?
Sleep in the boys’ bed.
Where shall the boys sleep?
Sleep in the pig-sty.
Where shall the pigs sleep?
Sleep in the washing-tub.
What shall I wash with?
Wash in an egg-shell.
The egg-shell will break.
Wash in a thimble.
Thimble’s not big enough.
Wash by the river side.
Suppose the things should float away?
Get a boat and go after them.
Suppose the boat should be upset?
Then you’ll be drowned,
Drowned, drowned,
Then you’ll be drowned,
And a good job too.

—Enborne, Berks. (Miss M. Kimber).

XI.

Please, mother, buy me a milk-can,
A milk-can, a milk-can,
Please, mother, do.

Where’s the money coming from,
Coming from, coming from,
What shall I do?

Sell father’s feather bed,
Feather bed, feather bed,
Please mother, do.

Where shall the father sleep?
Sleep in the servants’ bed.
Where shall the servants sleep?
Sleep in the pig-sty.
Where shall the pig sleep?
Sleep in the washing-tub.
What shall I wash in?
Wash in a thimble.
The shirts won’t go in.
Wash by the river side.
Supposing if I fall in?
Good job too!

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

XII.

Mother, buy the milk-pail, mother, dear mother of mine.
Where’s the money to come from, children, dear children of mine?
Sell father’s feather bed, mother, dear mother of mine.
Where’s your father to sleep in?
Father can sleep in the servant’s bed.
Where’s the servant to sleep in?
Servant can sleep in the pig-sty.
Where’s the pig to sleep in?
The pig can sleep in the wash-tub.
Where shall we wash our clothes?
Wash our clothes at the sea-side.
If our clothes should swim away?
Then take a boat and go after them.
O what should we do if the boat should sink?
O then we should all of us be at an end.

—Swaffham, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

XIII.

We want to buy a wash-pan, wash-pan, wash-pan,
We want to buy a wash-pan, early in the morning.

Where will you get the money from, money from, money from?
We’ll sell my father’s feather bed, feather bed, feather bed.
Where will your father sleep?
Father’ll sleep in the boys’ bed.
Where will the boys sleep?
Boys will sleep in the girls’ bed.
Where will the girls sleep?
Girls will sleep in the pig-sty.
Where will the pigs sleep?
Pigs will sleep in the washing-pan.

—Cowes, Isle of Wight (Miss E. Smith)

XIV.

Mother, may I buy some male-scales, mother, mother?
Mother, may I buy some male-scales, gentle mother of mine?
Where will the money come from, daughter, daughter?
Sell my father’s feather bed, mother, mother.
Where will your father lie, daughter, daughter?
Lie in the boys’ bed, mother, mother.
Where will the boys lie, daughter, daughter?
Lie in the servants’ bed, mother, mother.
Where will the servants lie, daughter, daughter?
Lie in the pig-sty, mother, mother.
Where will the pigs lie, daughter, daughter?
Lie in the washing-tub, mother, mother.
Where will we wash our clothes, daughter, daughter?
Wash them at the sea-side, mother, mother.
Suppose the clothes should float away, daughter, daughter?
Take a boat and bring them in, mother, mother.
Suppose the boat would go too slow, daughter, daughter?
Take a steamboat and bring them in, mother, mother.
Suppose the steamboat would go too fast, daughter, daughter?
Then take a rope and hang yourself, mother, mother.

—South Shields (Miss Blair, aged 9).

(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

A ball is thrown by one player to any one of the others. The thrower calls out at the same time either “mineral,” “animal,” or “vegetable,” and counts from one to ten rather quickly. If the player who is touched by the ball does not name something belonging to that kingdom called before the number ten is reached, a forfeit has to be paid.—London (A. B. Gomme).

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

Minister’s Cat

The first player begins by saying, “The minister’s cat is an ambitious cat,” the next player “an artful cat,” and so on, until they have all named an adjective beginning with A. The next time of going round the adjectives must begin with B, the next time C, and so on, until the whole of the alphabet has been gone through.—Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire (Miss Matthews); Anderby, Lincolnshire (Miss Peacock).

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

A game played with a ball. There are seven players, who each take a name from one of the days of the week. One (Sunday) begins by throwing the ball against a wall, calling out at the same time the name of one of the days, who has to run and catch it before it falls. If this one fails to catch the ball, the first player picks up the ball and tries to hit one of the six with it, who all endeavour to escape being hit. If the player succeeds, he again throws the ball against the wall, calling out another day of the week to catch it. If a player gets hit three times, he is out. The winner is he who has either not been hit at all or the fewest times, or who has been able to stay in the longest. The same game is played with twelve children, who are named after the twelve months of the year.—London and Barnes (A. B. Gomme); Strand Magazine, ii. 519 (F. H. Low).

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.

Mother, may I go out to play?
No, my child, it’s such a wet day.
Look how the sun shines, mother.
Well, make three round curtseys and be off away.
[Child goes, returns, knocks at door. Mother says, “Come in.”]
What have you been doing all this time?
Brushing Jenny’s hair and combing Jenny’s hair.
What did her mother give you for your trouble?
A silver penny.
Where’s my share of it?
Cat ran away with it.
Where’s the cat?
In the wood.
Where’s the wood?
Fire burnt it.
Where’s the fire?
Moo-cow drank it.
Where’s the moo-cow?
Butcher killed it.
Where’s the butcher?
Eating nuts behind the door, and you may have the nutshells.

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

II.

Please, mother, may I go a-maying?
Why, daughter, why?
Because it is my sister’s birthday.
Make three pretty curtseys and walk away.
Where is your may?
I met puss, and puss met me, and puss took all my may away.
Where is puss?
Run up the wood.
Where is the wood?
Fire burnt it.
Where is the fire?
Water quenched it.
Where is the water?
Ducks have drunk it.
Where are the ducks?
Butcher killed them.
Where is the butcher?
Behind the churchyard, cracking nuts, and leaving you the shells.

—Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

III.

Please, mother, may we go out to play?
Yes, if you don’t frighten the chickens.
No, mother, we won’t frighten the chickens.
[They all go out and say, “Hush! hush!” to pretended chickens.]
Where have you been?
To grandmother’s.
What for?
To go on an errand.
What did you get?
Some plums.
What did you do with them?
Made a plum-pudding.
What did she give you?
A penny.
What did you do with it?
Bought a calf.
What did you do with it?
Sold it.
What did you do with the money?
Gave it to the butcher, and he gave me a penny back, and I bought some nuts with it.
What did you do with them?
Gave them to the butcher, and he’s behind the churchyard cracking them, and leaving you the shells.

—Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

IV.

Mother, mother, may I go to play?
No, daughter, no! for fear you should stay.
Only as far as the garden gate, to gather flowers for my wedding day.
Make a fine curtsey and go your way.
[They all curtsey and scamper off, and proceed to plan some mischief. Then they return.]
Now where have you been?
Up to Uncle John’s.
What for?
Half a loaf, half a cheese, and half a pound of butter.
Where’s my share?
Up in cupboard.
’Tisn’t there, then!
Then the cat eat it.
And where’s the cat?
Up on the wood [i.e., the faggots].
And where’s the wood?
Fire burnt it.
Where’s the fire?
Water douted it [i.e., put it out].
Where’s the water?
Ox drank it.
Where’s the ox?
Butcher killed it.
And where’s the butcher?
Behind the door cracking nuts, and you may eat the shells of them if you like.

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

V.

Please may I go out to play?
How long will you stay?
Three hours in a day.
Will you come when I call you?
No.
Will you come when I fetch you?
Yes.
Make then your curtseys and be off.

The girls then scamper off as before, and as they run about the field keep calling out, “I won’t go home till seven o’clock, I won’t go home till seven o’clock.” After they have been running about for some five or ten minutes the Mother calls Alice (or whatever the name may be) to come home, when the one addressed will run all the faster, crying louder than before, “I won’t go home till seven o’clock.” Then the Mother commences to chase them until she catches them, and when she gets them to any particular place in the field where the others are playing, she says—

Where have you been?
Up to grandmother’s.
What have you done that you have been away so long?
I have cleaned the grate and dusted the room.
What did she give you?
A piece of bread and cheese so big as a house, and a piece of plum cake so big as a mouse.
Where’s my share?
Up in higher cupboard.
It’s not there.
Up in lower cupboard.
It’s not there.
Then the cat have eat it.
Where’s the cat?
Up in heath.
Where’s the heath?
The fire burnt it.

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

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

VI.

Mother, mother, may I (or we) go out to play?
No, child! no, child! not for the day.
Why, mother? why, mother? I won’t stay long.
Make three pretty courtesies, and away begone.
One for mammy, one for daddy, one for Uncle John.
Where, child! where, child! have you been all the day?
Up to granny’s.
What have you been doing there?

[The answer to this is often, “Washing doll’s clothes,” but anything may be mentioned.]

What did she give you?

[The reply is again left to the child’s fancy.]

Where’s my share?
The cat ate it [or, In the cat’s belly]. What’s in that box, mother?
Twopence, my child.
What for, mother?
To buy a stick to beat you, and a rope to hang you, my child.

—Cornwall (Folk-lore Journal, v. 55, 56).

VII.

Grandmother, grandmother grey,
May I go out to play?
No, no, no, it is a very wet day.
Grandmother, grandmother grey,
May I go out to play?
Yes, yes, yes, if you don’t frighten the geese away.
Children, I call you.
I can’t hear you.
Where are your manners?
In my shoe.
Who do you care for?
Not for you.

—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

VIII.

Pray, mother, pray,
May I go out to play?
No, daughter, no, daughter,
Not every fine day.
Why, mother, why?
I shan’t be gone long.
Make a fine curtsey
And glad git you gone.—
Wait for your sister.

—Hurstmonceux, Sussex (Miss Chase).

IX.

Please, mother, please, mother, may I go out to play?
No, child, no, child, ’tis such a cold day.
Why, mother, why, mother, I won’t stay long.
Make three pretty curtseys and off you run.

—Northants (Rev. W. D. Sweeting).

(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

All the players, except one, stand two by two in front of each other, the inner ones forming an arch with their hands united—this is called the “oven.” The odd child is “Mother Mop.” She busies herself with a pretended mop, peel, &c., after the manner of old-fashioned bakers, making much ado in the valley between the rows of children. The oven soon gets demolished, and the last child vanquished becomes “Mother Mop” the next time.—Bitterne, Hants (Mrs. Byford).

It seems probable that the inner rows of children should kneel or stoop down in order that “Mother Mop” should have as much trouble as possible with her oven. The game may have lost some of its details in other directions, as there is no apparent reason why the oven is demolished or broken down.

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.

Come in, says the eldest sister. What do you want?
Let me light my pipe at your fire? My fire’s out.
Yes! if you’ll not dirty the hearth.
No, certainly; I’ll be careful.

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—

Mother, mother, the pot boils over.
Take the spoon and skim it.
Can’t find it.
Look on the shelf.
Can’t reach it.
Take the stool.
The leg’s broke.
Take the chair.
Chair’s gone to be mended.
I suppose I must come myself?

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

Where’s Monday?
Oh, please, Mother, please, I couldn’t help it; but some one came to beg a light for her pipe, and when I went for it she took Monday off.
Why, that’s the witch!

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—

Please, will you lend me your tinder-box? My fire’s out.
Yes, certainly, if you’ll bring it back directly.
You shall have it in half-an-hour.

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—

Is this the way to the Witch’s house?
There’s a red bull that way!
I’ll go this way.
There’s a mad cow that way!
I’ll go this way.
There’s a mad dog that way!

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

Your boots are too dirty.
I’ll take my boots off.
Your stockings are too dirty.
I’ll take them off.
Your feet are dirty.
I’ll cut them off.
The blood will run over the threshold.
I’ll wrap them up in a blanket.
The blood will run through.

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—

This tastes like my Monday.

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

No, no, this is my Monday; run away home.

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

One child throws a tin (any kind of tin will do) to some distance, and then walks towards it without looking round. The other children, in the meantime, hide somewhere near. The child who threw the tin has to guard it, and at the same time try to find those who are hiding. If he sees one he must call the name, and run to strike the tin with his foot. He does this until each one has been discovered. As they are seen they must stand out. The one who was first found has to guard the tin next time. Should one of the players be able to strike the tin while the keeper is absent, that player calls out, “Hide again.” They can then all hide until the same keeper discovers them again.—Beddgelert (Mrs. Williams).

See “New Squat.”[Addendum]

Mouse and the Cobbler

One girl stands up and personates a mother, another pretends to be a mouse, and crouches behind a chair in a corner. The mother says to another player—

Go and get your father’s shirt.

This player goes to the chair to look for the shirt, and is tickled or touched by the one hiding. She rushes back and calls out—

Mother, there’s a mouse.
Go and get your father’s coat.
There’s a mouse.
Go and get your father’s watch and chain.
There’s a mouse.

The Mother then goes to see herself. The second time she is scratched and chased. When caught she takes the Mouse’s place.—Deptford, Kent (Miss Chase).

This is evidently the same game as “Ghost in the Garden” and “Ghost in the Copper,” in a decaying stage. There is no raison d’etre for either mouse or cobbler. Probably these words are a corruption of the older “Ghost in the Copper.”

Muffin Man

[Play]

—Earls Heaton (H. Hardy).

[Play]

—Congleton Workhouse (Miss A. E. Twemlow).

I.

Have you seen the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man,
Have you seen the muffin man that lives in Drury Lane O?
Yes, I’ve seen the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man;
Yes, I’ve seen the muffin man who lives in Drury Lane O.

—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

II.

O, have you seen the muffin man,
The muffin man, the muffin man;
O, have you seen the muffin man
Who lives in Drury Lane O?

—N. W. Lincolnshire (Rev. —— Roberts).

III.

Have you seen the muffin girl,
The muffin girl, the muffin girl?
O have you seen the muffin girl
Down in yonder lane?

—Congleton Workhouse School (Miss A. E. Twemlow).

IV.

Don’t you know the muffin man?
Don’t you know his name?
Don’t you know the muffin man
That lives in our lane?
All around the Butter Cross,
Up by St. Giles’s,
Up and down the Gullet Street,
And call at Molly Miles’s!

—Burne’s Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 571.

V.

Have you seen the nutting girl,
The nutting girl, the nutting girl?
Have you seen the nutting girl,
Down in yonder lane O?

—Holmfirth (H. Hardy).

(b) A ring is formed by the players joining hands; one child, who is blindfolded and holds a stick, stands in the centre. The ring dance round, singing the verse. They then stand still, and the centre child holds out the stick and touches one of the ring. This player must take hold of the stick. Then the Muffin Man asks this player any questions he pleases, “Is the morn shining?” “Is ink white?” &c. The child who holds the stick answers “Yes” or “No” in a disguised voice, and the Muffin Man then guesses who it is. He is allowed three tries. If he guesses right he joins the ring, and the child who was touched takes his place in the centre. In the Yorkshire versions no questions are asked; the blindfolded child goes to any one he can touch, and tries to guess his or her name. The other version, sent by Mr. Hardy, is played in the same way, and sung to the same tune. In the Congleton version (Miss Twemlow), the blindfolded child tries to catch one of those in the ring, when the verse is sung. The lines, with an additional four from Shropshire Folk-lore, are given by Miss Burne among nursery rhymes and riddles.

See “Buff with a Stick,” “Dinah.”

Mulberry Bush

[Play]

—Miss Harrison.

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we wash our hands,
Wash our hands, wash our hands,
This is the way we wash our hands,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we wash our clothes,
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes,
This is the way we wash our clothes,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we go to school,
We go to school, we go to school,
This is the way we go to school,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.

—Liphook, Hants (Miss Fowler).

(b) The children form a ring, all joining hands and dancing round while singing the first verse. When singing the last line they unclasp their hands, and each one turns rapidly round. They then sing the next verse, suiting their actions to the words they sing, again turning round singly at the last line. This is done with every alternate verse, the first verse being always sung as a chorus or dance in between the different action-verses. The verses may be varied or added to at pleasure. The actions generally consist of washing and dressing oneself, combing hair, washing clothes, baking bread, sweeping the floor, going to and returning from school, learning to read, cleaning boots, and lacing stays. When “going to school,” the children walk two by two in an orderly manner; when “coming home from school,” jumping and running is the style adopted; “lacing stays,” the hands are put behind and moved first one and then the other, as if lacing; “this is the way the ladies walk,” holding up skirts and walking primly; “gentlemen walk,” walking with long strides and sticks. The dressing process and cleaning boots preceded “school.”

(c) This game is well known, and played in almost all parts of England. It is always played in the same way. There is so little variety in the different versions that it appears unnecessary to give more than one here. In the many versions sent the only variants are: In Sporle, Norfolk, Miss Matthews says the game is sometimes called “Ivy Bush,” or “Ivory Bush;” and Mr. C. C. Bell, of Epworth, sends a version, “Here we go round the Mulberry Tree” In Notts it is called “Holly Bush” (Miss Winfield). A version given in the Folk-lore Record, iv. 174, is called the “Gooseberry Bush,” and Halliwell (Popular Nursery Rhymes, p. 224) records a game, the “Bramble Bush.” “The bush,” he says, “is often imaginative, but is sometimes represented by a child in the centre.” Chambers (Popular Rhymes, pp. 134, 135) gives the game as a form of the “Merry-ma-tanzie”—a kind of dance. They sing while moving round to the tune of “Nancy Dawson,” and stopping short with courtesy at the conclusion.

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush,
And round the merry-ma-tanzie.

Disjoining hands, they then begin, with skirts held daintily up behind, to walk singly along, singing—

This is the way the ladies walk,
The ladies walk, the ladies walk;
This is the way the ladies walk,
And round the merry-ma-tanzie.

At the last line they reunite, and again wheel round in a ring, singing as before—

Here we go round the mulberry bush, &c.

After which, they perhaps simulate the walk of gentlemen, the chief feature of which is length of stride, concluding with the ring dance as before. Probably the next movement may be—

This is the way they wash the clothes,
Wash the clothes, wash the clothes;
This is the way they wash the clothes,
And round the merry-ma-tanzie.

After which there is, as usual, the ring dance. They then represent washing, ironing clothes, baking bread, washing the house, and a number of other familiar proceedings.

Chambers quotes a fragment of this “little ballet,” as practised at Kilbarchan, in Renfrewshire, which contains the following lines similar to those in this game:—

She synes the dishes three times a day,
Three times a day, three times a day;
She synes the dishes three times a day,
Come alang wi’ the merry-ma-tanzie.

She bakes the scones three times a day,
Three times a day, three times a day;
She bakes the scones three times a day,
Come alang wi’ the merry-ma-tanzie.

She ranges the stules three times a day,
Three times a day, three times a day;
She ranges the stules three times a day,
Come alang wi’ the merry-ma-tanzie.

This game originated, no doubt, as a marriage dance round a sacred tree or bush. As it now exists it appears to have no other character than the performance of duties such as those enumerated in the description. In no version that I am acquainted with do the elements of love and marriage or kissing occur, otherwise the resemblance it bears to the Scotch “Merry-ma-tanzie” would suggest that it is a portion of that game. This game possesses the centre tree, which is not preserved in “Merry-ma-tansa.” Trees were formerly sacred to dancing at the marriage festival, as at Polwarth in Berwickshire, where the custom once prevailed, which is not unworthy of notice. “In the midst of the village are two thorn trees near to each other; round these every newly-married pair were expected to dance with all their friends; from hence arose the old song, ‘Polwarth on the Green’” (New Statistical Account of Scotland, Polwarth, Berwickshire, ii. 234). Holland (Cheshire Glossary), under “Kissing Bush,” says, “A bush of holly, ivy, or other evergreens, which is hung up in farm kitchens at Christmas, and serves the purpose of mistletoe. The kissing bushes are usually prepared by the farm lads on Christmas Eve, and they are often tastefully decorated with apples, oranges, and bits of gay-coloured ribbon. I have occasionally seen them made upon a framework of hoop iron something in the form of a crown, with a socket at the bottom to hold a lighted candle.” Brand (ii. 15) also describes how in Ireland men and women dance round about a bush in a large ring on the Patron Day. Newell (Games, p. 86), gives this game, and also mentions one in which “barberry bush” is named. The tune in all versions is the same. See “Merry ma-tansa,” “Nettles.”

Munshets or Munshits

Is played by two boys as follows:—One of the boys remains “at home,” and the other goes out to a prescribed distance. The boy who remains “at home” makes a small hole in the ground, and holds in his hand a stick about three feet long to strike with. The boy who is out at field throws a stick in the direction of this hole, at which the other strikes. If he hits it, he has to run to a prescribed mark and back to the hole without being caught or touched with the smaller stick by his playfellow. If he is caught, he is “out,” and has to go to field. And if the boy at field can throw his stick so near to the hole as to be within the length or measure of that stick, the boy at home has to go out to field. A number of boys often play together; for any even number can play. I am told that the game was common fifty years ago. In principle it resembles cricket, and looks like the rude beginning of the game.—Addy’s Sheffield Glossary.

See “Cat,” “Cudgel,” “Kit-cat,” “Tip-cat.”

Musical Chairs

A line of chairs is placed in a row down a room (one chair less than the number of children who are playing) in such a way that every alternate chair only is available on either side for the players to seat themselves. The children walk or dance round the chairs, keeping quite close to them. The piano or other musical instrument is played while they are dancing round. The music is continued for any length of time the player pleases, the children running round the chairs as long as the music goes on. The player stops the music suddenly, when all the children endeavour to take seats. One will be unable to find a seat, and this player remains “out.” A chair is then taken away, and the music and dancing round begins again. There should always be one chair less than the number of players.—A. B. Gomme.

In Ellesmere, Miss Burne says, “Snap-tongs,” called in other circles “Magic Music” or “Musical Chairs,” is thus played. Five players take part; four chairs are set in the middle, and one of the players, who holds a pair of tongs, desires the others to dance round them till the clock strikes a certain hour, which is done by snapping the tongs together so many times. While they dance, a chair is taken away, and the player who cannot find a seat has to become the “snap-tongs” next time.—Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 525.

Nacks

A game in which pegs of wood play a similar part to the well-known object “Aunt Sally.”—Robinson’s Mid Yorkshire Glossary.

Namers and Guessers

Any number of players can play this game. Two are chosen, the one to be Namer, and the other Guesser or Witch. The rest of the players range themselves in a row. The Guesser retires out of sight or to a distance. The Namer then gives each player a secret name. When names have been given to all the players, the Namer calls on the Guesser to come, by saying—

Witchie, witchie, yer bannocks are burnin’,
An’ ready for turnin’.

Whereupon he approaches, and the Namer says—

Come, chois me out, come, chois me in, to ——

(naming one by the assumed name). The players all shout, “Tack me, tack me,” repeatedly. The Witch points to one. If the guess is correct the player goes to the Witch’s side, but if it is incorrect he goes to the Namer’s side. This goes on till all the players are ranged on the one side or the other. The two parties then come to a tug, with the Namer and Guesser as leaders. The gaining party then ranges itself in two lines with a space between the lines, each boy holding in his hand his cap or his handkerchief tightly plaited. The boys of the conquered side have then to run between the two lines, and are pelted by the victors. This is called, “Throuw the Muir o’ Hecklepin.”—Keith (Rev. W. Gregor).

This game is practically the same as “Fool, Fool, come to School,” but the secret naming may indicate that this belongs to an earlier form.

See “Fool, Fool,” “Hecklebirnie.”[Addendum]

Neighbour

There is a game called “Neighbour, I torment thee,” played in Staffordshire, “with two hands, and two feet, and a bob, and a nod as I do.”—Halliwell’s Dictionary.

Neiveie-nick-nack

A fireside game. A person puts a little trifle, such as a button, into one hand, shuts it close, the other hand is also shut; then they are both whirled round and round one another as fast as they can, before the nose of the one who intends to guess what hand the prize is in; and if the guesser be so fortunate as to guess the hand the prize is in, it becomes his property; the whirling of the fists is attended with the following rhyme—

Neiveie, neiveie, nick nack,
What ane will ye tak,
The right or the wrang?
Guess or it be lang,
Plot awa’ and plan,
I’ll cheat ye gif I can.

—Mactaggart’s Gallovidian Encyclopædia.

The Rev. W. Gregor says at Keith this game is played at Christmas, and by two. The stakes are commonly pins. One player conceals a pin, or more if agreed on, in one of his (her) hands. He then closes both hands and twirls them over each other, in front of the other player, and repeats the words—

Nivvie, nivvie-neek-nack,
Filk (which) (or filk han’) ’ill ye tack?
Tack the richt, tack the left,
An’ a’ll deceave ye gehn (if) I can.

The other player chooses. If he chooses the hand having the stake, he gains it. If he does not, he forfeits the stake. Another form of words is—

Nivvie, nivvie-neek-nack
Filk (which) will ye tick-tack?
Tack ane, tack twa,
Tack the best amo’ them a’.

And—

Nivvie, nivvie-nick-nack,
Which han’ will ye tack?
Tack ane, tack twa,
Tack the best amo’ them a’.

Dickinson’s Cumberland Glossary describes this as a boyish mode of casting lots. The boy says—

Neevy, neevy-nack,
Whether hand will ta tack,
T’topmer or t’lowmer?

Mr. W. H. Patterson (Antrim and Down Glossary) gives the rhyme as—

Nievy, navy, nick nack,
Which han’ will ye tak’,
The right or the wrang?
I’ll beguile ye if I can.

Chambers (Popular Rhymes, p. 117) gives the rhyme the same as that given by Mr. Patterson. In Notes and Queries, 6th Series, vii. 235, a North Yorkshire version is given as—

Nievie, nievie, nack,
Whether hand wilta tak,
Under or aboon,
For a singal half-crown?
Nievie, nievie, nick, nack,
Whilk han’ will thou tak?
Tak the richt or tak the wrang,
I’ll beguile thee if I can.

Jamieson (Supp., sub voce) adds: “The first part of the word seems to be from neive, the fist being employed in the game.” A writer in Notes and Queries, iii. 180, says: “The neive, though employed in the game, is not the object addressed. It is held out to him who is to guess—the conjuror—and it is he who is addressed, and under a conjuring name. In short (to hazard a wide conjecture, it may be) he is invoked in the person of Nic Neville (Neivi Nic), a sorcerer in the days of James VI., who was burnt at St. Andrews in 1569. If I am right, a curious testimony is furnished to his quondam popularity among the common people.” It will be remembered that this game is mentioned by Scott in St. Ronan’s Well—“Na, na, said the boy, he is a queer old cull. . . . He gave me half-a-crown yince, and forbade me to play it awa’ at pitch and toss.” “And you disobeyed him, of course?” “Na, I didna disobey him—I played it awa’ at ‘Nievie, nievie, nick-nack.’”

See “Handy-dandy.”

Nettles

Nettles grow in an angry bush,
An angry bush, an angry bush;
Nettles grow in an angry bush,
With my high, ho, ham!

This is the way the lady goes,
The lady goes, the lady goes;
This is the way the lady goes,
With my hi, ho, ham!

Nettles grow in an angry bush, &c.

This is the way the gentleman goes, &c.

Nettles grow in an angry bush, &c.

This is the way the tailor goes.

—Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes, 227.

(b) The children dance round, singing the first three lines, turning round and clapping hands for the fourth line. They curtsey while saying, “This is the way the lady goes,” and again turn round and clap hands for the last line. The same process is followed in every verse, only varying what they act—thus, in the third verse, they bow for the gentleman—and so the amusement is protracted ad libitum, with shoemaking, washing clothes, ironing, churning, milking, making up butter, &c., &c.

(c) This game is practically the same as the “Mulberry Bush.” The action is carried on in the same way, except that the children clap their hands at the fourth line, instead of each turning themselves round, as in “Mulberry Bush.” The “High, ho, ham!” termination may be the same as the “I, O, OM” of Mr. Addy’s version of “Milking Pails.”

See “Mulberry Bush,” “When I was a Young Girl.”

New Squat

A ring is made by marking the ground, and a tin placed in the middle of it. One boy acts as keeper of the tin, the other players also stand outside the ring. One of these kicks the tin out of the ring, the others then all run to hide or squat out of sight. The keeper has to replace the tin before looking for the boys. If, after that, he can spy a boy, that boy must come out and stand by the ring. When another boy is spied, he endeavours to reach the ring before the keeper does so, and kick out the tin. If he is successful, any one of the boys who is standing by, having been previously spied, is released from the keeper, and again hides. The object of the keeper is to successfully spy all the boys. When this is accomplished the last boy becomes the keeper.—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (Herbert Hardy).

See “Mount the Tin.”

Nine Holes

Nine round holes are made in the ground, and a ball aimed at them from a certain distance; or the holes are made in a board with a number over each, through one of which the ball has to pass.—Forby’s Vocabulary.

“A rural game,” says Nares, “played by making nine holes in the ground, in the angles and sides of a square, and placing stones and other things upon, according to certain rules.” Moor (Suffolk Words and Phrases) says: “This is, I believe, accurate as far as it goes, of our Suffolk game. A hole in the middle is necessary.” In Norfolk, Holloway (Dict. Prov.) says that nine round holes are made in the ground, and a ball aimed at them from a certain distance. A second game is played with a board having nine holes, through one of which the ball must pass. Nares quotes several authors to show the antiquity of the game. He shows that the “Nine Men’s Morris” of our ancestors was but another name for “Nine Holes.” Nine, a favourite and mysterious number everywhere, prevails in games.

Strutt (Sports, p. 384) also describes the game as played in two ways—a game with bowling marbles at a wooden bridge; and another game, also with marbles, in which four, five, or six holes, and sometimes more, are made in the ground at a distance from each other, and the business of every one of the players is to bowl a marble, by a regular succession, into all the holes, and he who completes in the fewest bowls obtains the victory. In Northamptonshire a game called “Nine Holes,” or “Trunks,” is played with a long piece of wood or bridge with nine arches cut in it, each arch being marked with a figure over it, from one to nine, in the following rotation—VII., V., III., I., IX., II., IIII., VI., VIII. Each player has two flattened balls which he aims to bowl edgeways under the arches; he scores the number marked over the arch he bowls through, and he that attains to forty-five first wins the game (Baker’s Northamptonshire Glossary). In Arch. Journ., xlix. 320, in a paper by Mr. J. T. Micklethwaite, this game is described, and diagrams of the game given which had been found by him cut in a stone bench in the church of Ardeley, Hertfordshire, and elsewhere. He has also seen the game played in London. It is evidently the same game as described by Nares and Moor above.

See “Bridgeboard,” “Nine Men’s Morris.”

Nine Men’s Morris

In the East Riding this game is played thus: A flat piece of wood about eight inches square is taken, and on it twenty-four holes are bored by means of a hot skewer or piece of hot iron.

Each of the two players has nine wooden pegs, which are either coloured or shaped differently, and the object of each player is to get three of his own pegs in a straight line (fig. 1). It is called “Merrils.”—Sheffield (S. O. Addy).

Cotgrave’s Dictionarie, 1632, says: “Merelles, le jeu de merelles, the boyish game called merrils, or fiue-pennie morris. Played here most commonly with stones, but in France with pawns or men made of purpose, and termed merelles.” Strutt (Sports, p. 317) says: “This was why the game received this name. It was formerly called ‘Nine Men’s Morris’ and ‘Five-penny Morris,’ and is a game of some antiquity. It was certainly much used by the shepherds formerly, and continues to be used by them and other rustics to the present hour.” An illustration of the form of the merelle table and the lines upon it, as it appeared in the fourteenth century, is given by him, and he observes that the lines have not been varied. The black spots at every angle and intersection of the lines are the places for the men to be laid upon. The men are different in form and colour for distinction’s sake, and from the moving these men backwards and forwards, as though they were dancing a morris, I suppose the pastime received the name of “Nine Men’s Morris,” but why it should have been called “Five-penny Morris” I do not know. The manner of playing is briefly thus:—Two persons, having each of them nine pieces or men, lay them down alternately, one by one, upon the spots, and the business of either party is to prevent his antagonist from placing three of his pieces so as to form a row of three without the intervention of an opponent piece. If a row be formed, he that made it is at liberty to take up one of his competitor’s pieces from any part he thinks most to his own advantage, excepting he has made a row, which must not be touched, if he have another piece upon the board that is not a component part of that row. When all the pieces are laid down they are played backwards and forwards in any direction that the lines run, but can only move from one spot to another at one time. He that takes off all his antagonist’s pieces is the conqueror. The rustics, when they have not materials at hand to make a table, cut the lines in the same form upon the ground and make a small hole for every dot. They then collect stones of different forms or colours for the pieces, and play the game by depositing them in the holes in the same manner that they are set over the dots on the table. Hence Shakespeare, describing the effects of a wet and stormy season, says—

“The folds stand empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock—
The Nine Men’s Morris is filled up with mud.”

—Midsummer Nights Dream, act ii. sc. 2.

Miss Baker (Northamptonshire Glossary), in describing “Merell” or “Morris,” says:—“On the inclosing of open fields this game was transferred to a board, and continues a fireside recreation of the agricultural labourer. It is often called by the name of ‘Mill’ or ‘Shepherd’s Mill.’” She says the mode of playing now observed is this. Each of the players has nine pieces, or men, differing in colour, or material, from his adversary, for distinction’s sake; which they lay down on the spots alternately, one by one, each endeavouring to prevent his opponent from placing three of his pieces in a line, as whichever does so is entitled to take off any one of his antagonist’s men where he pleases, without breaking a row of three, which must not be done whilst there is another man on the board. After all the pieces are placed on the board, they are moved alternately backwards and forwards along the lines; and as often as either of the players succeeds in accomplishing a row of three, he claims one of his antagonist’s men, which is placed in the pound (the centre), and he who takes the most pieces wins the game. It is played on a board whereon are marked three squares, one being denominated the pound. It is sometimes played with pegs, bits of paper, or wood, or stone. It is called “Peg Morris” by Clare, the Northamptonshire poet.

The ancient game of “Nine Men’s Morris” is yet played by the boys of Dorset. The boys of a cottage, near Dorchester, had a while ago carved a “Marrel” pound on a block of stone by the house. Some years ago a clergyman of one of the upper counties wrote that in the pulling down of a wall in his church, built in the thirteenth century, the workmen came to a block of stone with a “Marrel’s” pound cut on it. “Merrels” the game was called by a mason.—Barnes’ Additional Glossary; Folk-lore Journal, vii. 233.

“‘Nine Men’s Morris,’ in Gloucestershire called ‘Ninepenny Morris,’ was,” says a correspondent in the Midland Garner, “largely practised by boys and even older people over thirty years ago, but is now, as far as I know, entirely disused. Two persons play. Each must have twelve pegs, or twelve pieces of anything which can be distinguished. The Morris was usually marked on a board or stone with chalk, and consists of twenty-four points. The pegs are put down one at a time alternately upon any point upon the Morris, and the first person who makes a consecutive row of three impounds one of his opponent’s pegs. The pegs must only be moved on the lines. The game is continued until one or other of the players has only two pegs left, when the game is won” (1st ser., i. 20). Another correspondent in the same journal (ii. 2) says, “The game was very generally played in the midland counties under the name of ‘Merrilpeg’ or ‘Merelles.’ The twelve pieces I have never seen used, though I have often played with nine. We generally used marbles or draught pieces, and not pegs.”

The following are the accounts of this game given by the commentators on Shakespeare:—

“In that part of Warwickshire where Shakespeare was educated, and the neighbouring parts of Northamptonshire, the shepherds and other boys dig up the turf with their knives to represent a sort of imperfect chess-board. It consists of a square, sometimes only a foot diameter, sometimes three or four yards. Within this is another square, every side of which is parallel to the external square; and these squares are joined by lines drawn from each corner of both squares, and the middle of each line. One party, or player, has wooden pegs, the other stones, which they move in such a manner as to take up each other’s men, as they are called, and the area of the inner square is called the pound, in which the men taken up are impounded. These figures are by the country people called nine men’s morris, or merrils; and are so called because each party has nine men. These figures are always cut upon the green turf, or leys as they are called, or upon the grass at the end of ploughed lands, and in rainy seasons never fail to be choked up with mud” (Farmer). “Nine men’s morris is a game still played by the shepherds, cow-keepers, &c., in the midland counties, as follows:—A figure (of squares one within another) is made on the ground by cutting out the turf; and two persons take each nine stones, which they place by turns in the angles, and afterwards move alternately, as at chess or draughts. He who can play three in a straight line may then take off any one of his adversary’s, where he pleases, till one, having lost all his men, loses the game” (Alchorne).

The following is the account of this game given by Mr. Douce in the Illustrations of Shakespeare and of Ancient Manners, 1807, i. 184:—“This game was sometimes called the nine mens merrils from merelles, or mereaux, an ancient French word for the jettons, or counters, with which it was played. The other term, morris, is probably a corruption suggested by the sort of dance which, in the progress of the game, the counters performed. In the French merelles each party had three counters only, which were to be placed in a line in order to win the game. It appears to have been the tremerel mentioned in an old fabliau. See Le Grand, Fabliaux et Contes, ii. 208. Dr. Hyde thinks the morris, or merrils, was known during the time that the Normans continued in possession of England, and that the name was afterwards corrupted into three men’s morals, or nine men’s morals. If this be true, the conversion of morrals into morris, a term so very familiar to the country people, was extremely natural. The Doctor adds, that it was likewise called nine-penny or nine-pin miracle, three-penny morris, five-penny morris, nine-penny morris, or three-pin, five-pin, and nine-pin morris, all corruptions of three-pin, &c., merels” (Hyde’s Hist. Nederluddi, p. 202). Nares says the simpler plan here represented (fig. 2), which he had also seen cut on small boards, is more like the game than the one referred to in the variorem notes of Shakespeare.

Forby has, “Morris, an ancient game, in very common modern use. In Shakespeare it is called ‘nine men’s morris,’ from its being played with nine men, as they were then, and still are called. We call it simply morris. Probably it took the name from a fancied resemblance to a dance, in the motions of the men. Dr. Johnson professes that he knew no more of it than that it was some rustic game. Another commentator speaks of it as common among shepherds’ boys in some parts of Warwickshire. It cannot well be more common there than here, and it is not particularly rustic. Shepherds’ boys and other clowns play it on the green turf, or on the bare ground; cutting or scratching the lines, on the one or the other. In either case it is soon filled up with mud in wet weather. In towns, porters and other labourers play it, at their leisure hours, on the flat pavement, tracing the figure with chalk. It is also a domestic game; and the figure is to be found on the back of some draught-boards. But to compare morris with that game, or with chess, seems absurd; as it has a very distant resemblance, if any at all, to either, in the lines, or in the rules of playing. On the ground, the men are pebbles, broken tiles, shells, or potsherds; on a table, the same as are used at draughts or backgammon. In Nares it is said to be the same as nine-holes. With us it is certainly different.” Cope (Hampshire Glossary) says that “Nine Men’s Morrice” is a game played with counters. He does not describe it further. Atkinson (Glossary of Cleveland Dialect) says under “Merls,” the game of “Merelles,” or “Nine Men’s Morris.” Toone (Etymological Dictionary) describes it as a game played on the green sward, holes being cut thereon, into which stones were placed by the players. Stead’s Holderness Glossary calls it “Merrils,” and describes it as a game played on a square board with eighteen pegs, nine on each side, called in many parts “Nine Men’s Morrice.” See also Sussex Arch. Collections, xxv. 234, and a paper by Mr. J. T. Micklethwaite (Arch. Journ., xlix. 322), where diagrams of this game are given which have been found cut in several places on the benches of the cloisters at Gloucester, Salisbury, and elsewhere.

See “Noughts and Crosses.”

Nip-srat-and-bite

A children’s game, in which nuts, pence, gingerbread, &c., are squandered.—Addy’s Sheffield Glossary.

Nitch, Notch, No-Notch

Children cut a number of slices from an apple, extending from the eye to the tail, broader on the outside than on the inner, which reaches nearly to the core; one piece has a part cut out, making a notch—this is called “Notch;” another is not cut at all—this is called “No-Notch;” while a third has an incision made on it, but not cut out—this is called “Nitch.” The pieces when thus marked are replaced, and the game consists in one child holding the apple, and pointing to one of the pieces, asking another child which he will have, “Nitch, Notch, or No-Notch;” if he guesses right, he has it and eats it; if wrong, the other eats it.—Sussex (Holloway’s Dict. of Provincialisms).

Not

A game where the parties, ranged on opposite sides, with each a bat in their hands, endeavour to strike a ball to opposite goals. The game is called “Not,” from the ball being made of a knotty piece of wood.—Gloucestershire (Holloway’s Dict. of Provincialisms).

See “Hawkey.”

Noughts and Crosses

This game is played on slates by school-children. The accompanying diagram is drawn on the slate, and a certain figure (generally twenty) is agreed upon as “game.” There are two players, one takes noughts [O], the other crosses [X]. The three places drawn on the slate above the diagram are for the players each to put down marks or numbers for the games they win, the centre place being for “Old Nick,” or “Old Tom.” The object of the game is for each player to occupy three contiguous places in a row or line with either noughts or crosses, and to prevent his opponent from doing so. The diagram is of course empty when play begins. One player commences by putting his mark into either of the vacant places he prefers, the other player then places his in another, wherever he thinks he has the best opportunity to prevent his opponent getting a “three,” and at the same time to get a three himself; then the first player plays again, and so on alternately until all the squares are occupied, or until one of the players has a “three” in line. If neither player gets a “three,” the game is won by “Old Nick,” and one is scored to his name. In the diagram the result of the game is shown when won by “Old Nick.” Whichever player first wins a game adds “Old Nick’s” score to his own. In some games “Old Nick” keeps all he wins for himself, and then most frequently wins the game.—London (A. B. Gomme).

See “Corsicrown,” “Kit-Cat-Cannio,” “Nine Men’s Morris.”

Nur and Spel

A boys’ game in Lincolnshire, somewhat similar to “Trap Ball.” It is played with a “kibble,” a “nur,” and a “spell.” By striking the end of the spell with the kibble, the nur, of course, rises into the air, and the art of the game is to strike it with the kibble before it reaches the ground. He who drives it the greatest distance wins the game.—Halliwell’s Dictionary.

Strutt (Sports and Pastimes, p. 109) describes this game as “Northern-spell,” played with a trap, and the ball is stricken with a bat or bludgeon. The contest between the players is simply who shall strike the ball to the greatest distance in a given number of strokes. The length of each stroke is measured before the ball is returned, by means of a cord made fast at one end near the trap, the other being stretched into the field by a person stationed there for that purpose, who adjusts it to the ball wherever it may lie.

In a work entitled the Costumes of Yorkshire this game is described and represented as “Nor and Spell.” The little wooden ball used in this game is in Yorkshire called the “Nor,” and the receptacle in which it is placed the “Spell.” Peacock (Manley and Corringham Glossary) gives “knur,” (1) a hard wooden ball, (2) the head. Addy (Sheffield Glossary) says “knur” is a small round ball, less than a billiard ball. It is put into a cup fixed on a spring which, being touched, causes the ball to rise into the air, when it is struck by a trip-stick, a slender stick made broad and flat at one end. The “knur” is struck by the broad part. The game is played on Shrove Tuesday. Brogden (Provincial Words of Lincolnshire) gives it under “Bandy.” It is called “Knur, Spell, and Kibble” in S.-W. Lincolnshire.—Cole’s Glossary.

The following letter relating to this game is extracted from the Worcestershire Chronicle, September 1847, in Ellis’s edition of Brand:—“Before the commons were taken in, the children of the poor had ample space wherein to recreate themselves at cricket, nurr, or any other diversion; but now they are driven from every green spot, and in Bromsgrove here, the nailor boys, from the force of circumstances, have taken possession of the turnpike road to play the before-mentioned games, to the serious inconvenience of the passengers, one of whom, a woman, was yesterday knocked down by a nurr which struck her in the head.”

Brockett says of this game, as played in Durham: It is called “Spell and Ore,” Teut. “spel,” a play or sport; and Germ. “knorr,” a knot of wood or ore. The recreation is also called “Buckstick, Spell, and Ore,” the buckstick with which the ore is struck being broad at one end like the butt of a gun (North Country Words). In Yorkshire it is “Spell and Nurr,” or “Knur,” the ore or wooden ball having been, perhaps, originally the knurl or knot of a tree. The Whitby Glossary also gives this as “Spell and Knor,” and says it is known in the South as “Dab and Stick.” The author adds, “May not ‘tribbit,’ or ‘trevit,’ be a corruption of ‘three feet,’ the required length of the stick for pliable adaptation?”

Robinson (Mid-Yorkshire Glossary), under “Spell and Nur,” says: “A game played with a wooden ball and a stick fitted at the striking end with a club-shaped piece of wood. The ’spell’ made to receive and spring the ball for the blow at a touch, is a simple contrivance of wood an inch or so in breadth and a few inches long. . . . The players, who usually go in and out by turns each time, after a preliminary series of tippings of the spell with the stick in one hand, and catches of the ball with the other, in the process of calculating the momentum necessary for reach of hand, are also allowed two trial ‘rises’ in a striking attitude, and distance is reckoned by scores of yards. The long pliable stick, with a loose club end, used in the game, is called the ‘tribit’ or ‘trivit’ stick. . . . The trevit is, in fact, the trap itself, and the trevit-stick the stick with which the trap is struck.” The tribbit-stick is elsewhere called “primstick,” “gelstick,” “buckstick,” “trippit,” and “trevit.” Atkinson says that “spell” is O.N., “spill” meaning a play or game, and the probability is that the game is a lineal descendant from the Ball-play of the Old Danes, or Northmen, and Icelanders. “Spell and knor” is a corruption of “spell a’ knor,” the play at ball. Nurspel is simply ball-play, therefore which name, taken in connection with the fact that the game is elsewhere called “Spell and Knor,” and not “Knor and Spell,” is significant. There is one day in the year, Shrove Tuesday, when the play is customarily practised, though not quite exclusively.—Atkinson’s Cleveland Glossary.

Easther (Almondbury Glossary) describes it as played with a wooden ball, a spel, and a pommel. Two may play, or two sides. When a player goes in he drives the knor for, say, 100 yards, i.e., five score, and he reckons five. Each person has the same number of strokes previously agreed upon, but generally only one innings. The “spell” is a kind of stage with three or four feet, to drive it into the ground. On the top of this stage is a spring made of steel, containing a cup to receive the “knor,” which is about one or two inches in diameter, and is made of holly or box. The spring is kept down by a sneck, which is tapped by the pommel when the knor is intended to be struck. The pommel is thus formed—the driving part is frequently of ash-root or owler, in shape like half a sugar-loaf split lengthwise, but only three or four inches long, and the handle is of ash, wrapped with a wax band where held, which is in one hand only.

See “Kibel and Nerspel,” “Trap Ball,” “Trippit and Coit.”

Nuts in May

[Play]

—Shropshire (Miss Burne).

I.

Here we come gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
Here we come gathering nuts in May,
On a fine summer morning.

Whom will you have for nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May?
Whom will you have for nuts in May,
On a fine summer morning?

We’ll have —— for nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
We’ll have —— for nuts in May,
On a fine summer morning.

Who will you send to fetch her [or him] away,
To fetch her away, to fetch her away?
Who will you send to fetch her away,
On a fine summer morning?

We’ll send —— to fetch her away,
Fetch her away, fetch her away,
We’ll send —— to fetch her away,
On a fine summer morning.

—Liphook and Winterton, Hants (Miss Fowler).

II.

Here we come gathering nuts and May
[Nuts and May, nuts and May],
Here we come gathering nuts and May,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Pray who will you gather for nuts and May,
Pray who will you gather for nuts and May,
On a cold and frosty morning?

We’ll gather —— for nuts and May,
We’ll gather —— for nuts and May,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Pray who will you send to take her away,
Pray who will you send to take her away,
On a cold and frosty morning?

We’ll send —— to take her away,
We’ll send —— to take her away,
On a cold and frosty morning.

—Penzance (Mrs. Mabbott).

III.

Here we come gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
Here we come gathering nuts in May,
May, May, May.

Who will you have for nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May?
Who will you have for nuts in May,
May, May, May?

[Bessie Stewart] for nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
[Bessie Stewart] for nuts in May,
May, May, May.

Very well, very well, so you may,
So you may, so you may,
Very well, very well, so you may,
May, may, may.

Whom will you have to take her away,
Take her away, take her away?
Whom will you have to take her away,
Way, way, way?

—— —— to take her away,
Take her away, take her away,
—— —— to take her away,
Way, way, way.

—Belfast (W. H. Patterson).

IV.

Here we come gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
Here we come gathering nuts in May,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Where do you gather your nuts in May?
On Galloway Hill we gather our nuts.
Who will you gather for nuts in May?
We’ll gather —— for nuts in May.
Who will you send to fetch her away?
We’ll send —— to fetch her away.

—Bocking, Essex (Folk-lore Record, iii. 169).

V.

Here we go gathering nuts away,
Nuts away, nuts away,
Here we go gathering nuts away,
On a cold and frosty morning.

[Then follow verses beginning—]

Whose nuts shall we gather away?
We’ll gather [Minnie Brown’s] nuts away.
Whom shall we send to fetch them away?

[And the final verse is—]

We’ll send [Johnny Cope] to fetch them away,
Fetch them away, fetch them away,
We’ll send [Johnny Cope] to fetch them away,
On a cold and frosty morning.

—Newbury, Berks (Mrs. S. Batson).

VI.

Who will go gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May?
Who will go gathering nuts in May,
At five o’clock in the morning?

—N.-W. Lincolnshire (Rev. —— Roberts).

VII.

Here we come gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
Here we come gathering nuts in May,
On a cold and frosty morning.

Who will you have for your nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May?
Who will you have for your nuts in May,
On a cold and frosty morning?

We will have a girl for nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
We will have a girl for nuts in May,
On a cold and frosty morning.

—Earls Heaton, Yorks. (Herbert Hardy).

VIII.

Here we come gathering nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
Here we come gathering nuts in May,
This cold frosty morning.

Who will you have for your nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May?
Who will you have for your nuts in May,
This cold frosty morning?

We will have —— for our nuts in May,
Nuts in May, nuts in May,
We will have —— for our nuts in May,
This cold frosty morning.

Who will you have to pull her away,
Pull her away, pull her away?
Who will you have to pull her away,
This cold frosty morning?

We will have —— to pull her away,
Pull her away, pull her away,
We will have —— to pull her away,
This cold frosty morning.

—Settle, Yorks. (Rev. W. S. Sykes).

IX.

Here we come gathering nuts to-day,
Nuts to-day, nuts to-day,
Here we come gathering nuts to-day,
So early in the morning.

Pray, whose nuts will you gather away,
Gather away, gather away?
Pray, whose nuts will you gather away,
So early in the morning?

We’ll gather Miss A——’s nuts away,
Nuts away, nuts away,
We’ll gather Miss A——’s nuts away,
So early in the morning.

Pray, who will you send to take them away,
To take them away, take them away?
Pray, who will you send to take them away,
So early in the morning?

We’ll send Miss B—— to take them away,
To take them away, take them away,
We’ll send Miss B—— to take them away,
So early in the morning.

—Symondsbury, Dorsetshire (Folk-lore Journal, vii. 226-7).

(b) The children form in two lines of equal length, facing one another, with sufficient space between the lines to admit of their walking in line backwards and forwards towards and away from each other, as each line sings the verses allotted to it (fig. 1). The first line sings the first, third, and fifth verses, and the opposite line the second and fourth. At the end of the fifth verse a handkerchief or other mark is laid on the ground, and the two children (whose names have been mentioned, and who are as evenly matched as possible), take each other’s right hand and endeavour to pull each other over the handkerchief to their own side (fig. 2). The child who is pulled over the handkerchief becomes the “captured nut,” and joins the side of her capturers. Then the game begins again by the second line singing the first, third, and fifth verses, while advancing to gather or capture the “nuts,” the first line responding with the second and fourth verses, and the same finish as before. Then the first line begins the game, and so on until all the children are in this way matched one against the other.

(c) Other versions have been sent me, with slight variations: Nuts in May, with the verses ending, “On a fine summer morning,” from Lincoln and Nottinghamshire (Miss M. Peacock); “So early in the morning,” Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews); “Six o’clock in the morning,” Nottingham (Miss Wenfield); “On a cold and frosty morning,” East Kirkby, Lincolnshire (Miss K. Maughan); Barnes (A. B. Gomme), Colchester (Miss G. M. Frances). Nuts and May: “On a bright and sunny morning” (Mr. C. C. Bell); “On a cold and frosty morning,” Forest of Dean (Miss Matthews); “Every night and morning,” Gainford, Durham (Miss Edleston); “We’ve picked [Sally Gray] for nuts in May,” “All on a summer’s morning,” Sheffield (Mr. S. O. Addy). A version by Miss Kimber (Newbury, Berks, and Marlborough, Wilts) ends each verse, “Nuts and May.” In other respects these variants are practically the same. Printed versions not given above are Hersham, Surrey (Folk-lore Record, v. 85); Burne’s Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 516; Sulhampstead, Berks (Antiquary, vol. xxvii., Miss E. E. Thoyts); and Dorsetshire, “Gathering nuts away” (Folk-lore Journal, vii. 225). From Longcot, Berks, a version sent me by Miss I. Barclay has no fourth line to the verses.

(d) This game is probably, unless we except “Mulberry Bush,” the most popular and the most widely played of any singing game. It might almost be called universal. This is shown by the fact that there are few counties where it is not known, and also that important variants, either in the words or in the method of playing, are rarely met with. In all the versions which have been sent there are only the following variations in the words, and these are principally in the refrain, or last line of each verse: “On a cold and frosty morning” ends by far the greater number of versions; “On a fine summer’s morning,” “So early in the morning,” “All on a summer’s morning,” “Five o’clock in the morning,” “On a cold and sunny morning,” coming next in number. The Belfast version ends, “May! May! May!” and a Newbury and Marlborough fourth line is simply a repetition of the second, “Nuts in May, nuts in May.”

In the first line of the verse the only important variant seems to be the Symondsbury “Gathering nuts away” and “Gathering nuts to-day.” “Gathering nuts away” also occurs in one version from Newbury (Berks), “Nuts and May” appearing in the larger number after the more usual “Nuts in May.” In only one version is a specific place mentioned for the gathering. This is in the Bocking version, where Galloway Hill is named, in reply to the unusual question, “Where do you gather your nuts in May?” A player is usually gathered for “Nuts in May.” In three or four cases only is this altered to gathering a player’s “nuts away,” which is obviously an alteration to try and make the action coincide exactly with the words. The game is always played in “lines,” and the principal incidents running throughout all the versions are the same, i.e., one player is selected by one line of players from their opponents’ party. The “selected” one is refused by her party unless some one from the opposite side can effect her capture by a contest of strength. In all versions but two or three this contest takes place between the two; in one or two all the players join in the trial of strength. In another instance there appears to be no contest, but the selected player crosses over to the opposite side. Two important incidents occur in the Bocking and Symondsbury versions. In the Bocking game the side which is victorious has the right to begin the next game first: this also occurs in the Barnes version. In Symondsbury, when one child is drawn over the boundary line by one from the opposite side she has to be “crowned” immediately. This is done by the conqueror putting her hand on the captured one’s head. If this is not done at once the captured one is at liberty to return to her own side. In some versions (Shropshire and London) the player who is selected for “Nuts” is always captured by the one sent to fetch her. Some Barnes children also say that this is the proper way to play. When boys and girls play the boys are always sent to “fetch away” the girls. In Sheffield (a version collected by Mr. S. O. Addy) a boy is chosen to fetch the girl away; and in the Earls Heaton version the line runs, “We’ll have a girl for nuts in May.”

(e) There is some analogy in the game to marriage by capture, and to the marriage customs practised at May Day festivals and gatherings. For the evidence for marriage by capture in the game there is no element of love or courtship, though there is the obtaining possession of a member of an opposing party. But it differs from ordinary contest-games in the fact that one party does not wage war against another party for possession of a particular piece of ground, but individual against individual for the possession of an individual. That the player sent to fetch the selected girl is expected to conquer seems to be implied—first, by a choice of a certain player being made to effect the capture; secondly, by the one sent “to fetch” being always successful; and thirdly, the “crowning” in the Symondsbury game. Through all the games I have seen played this idea seems to run, and it exactly accords with the conception of marriage by capture. For examples of the actual survivals in English, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish customs of marriage by capture see Gomme’s Folk-lore Relics of Early Village Life, pp. 204-210.

The question is, How does this theory of the origin of the game fit in with the term “Nuts in May”? I attribute this to the gathering by parties of young men of bunches of May at the May festivals and dances, to decorate not only the Maypole, May “kissing-bush,” but the doors of houses. “Knots of May” is a term used by children, meaning bunches of May. Thus, a note by Miss Fowler in the MS. of the games she had collected says, “In Bucks the children speak of ‘knots of May,’ meaning each little bunch of hawthorn blossom.” The gathering of bunches of May by parties of young men and maidens to make the May-bush round which the May Day games were held, and dancing and courting, is mentioned by Wilde (Irish Popular Superstitions, p. 52), the game being “Dance in the Ring.” Holland (Cheshire Glossary) says, “May birches were branches of different kinds of trees fastened over doors of houses and on the chimney on the eve of May Day. They were fastened up by parties of young men who went round for the purpose, and were intended to be symbolical of the character of the inmates.” I remember one May Day in London, when the “May girls” came with a garland and short sticks decorated with green and bunches of flowers, they sang—

Knots of May we’ve brought you,
Before your door it stands;
It is but a sprout, but it’s well budded out
By the work of the Lord’s hands,

and a Miss Spencer, who lived near Hampton (Middlesex), told me that she well remembered the May girls singing the first verse of this carol, using “knots” instead of the more usual word “branch” or “bunch,” and that she knew the small bunch of May blossom by the name of “knots” of May, “bringing in knots of May” being a usual expression of children.

The association of May—whether the month, or the flower, or both—with the game is very strong, the refrain “cold and frosty morning,” “all on a summer’s morning,” “bright summer’s morning,” “so early in the morning,” also being characteristic of the early days of May and spring, and suggests that the whole day from early hours is given up to holiday. The familiar nursery rhyme given by Halliwell—

Here we come a-piping,
First in spring and then in May,

no doubt also refers to house-to-house visiting of May.

The connection between the May festival and survival in custom of marriage by capture is well illustrated by a passage from Stubbe’s Anatomie of Abuses, p. 148. He says: “Against May Day, Whitsonday, or other time, euery Parishe, Towne and Village assemble themselves together, bothe men women and children, olde and yong, . . . and either goyng all together or diuidyng themselues into companies, they goe some to the Woodes and groves where they spend all the night in plesant pastimes; and in the morning they return bringing with them birch and branches of trees to deck their assemblies withall . . . and then they fall to daunce about it like as the heathen people did. . . . I have heard it credibly reported (and that viva voce) by men of great grauitie and reputation, that of fortie, threescore or a hundred maides going to the wood ouer night, there haue scaresly the third part of them returned home againe undefiled.” Herrick’s Hesperides also describes the festival, and the custom of courting and marriage at the same time.

The tune sung to this game appears to be the same in every version.[Addendum]

END OF VOL. I.

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