Chapter XVIII: Appendix (3)

The widow with daughters to marry is a European celebrity. The titles _rich_ and _poor_, moreover, in this and the last number, are not meaningless, but show that two independent characters have been united in one. In the original European game, which we have not encountered in an English form, there is both a _rich_ and a _poor_ mother; the latter begs away, one by one, the daughters of the former, until she has secured all. The present round and the preceding are only reductions, or adaptations to the dance, of this more ancient and dramatic game. Once more, the game of the rich and poor mothers, though centuries old, and existing in many European tongues, is itself but an outgrowth of a still more ancient childish drama, which has given birth to innumerable sports, dances, and songs, exhibiting very different external characteristics all over Europe, but of which primitive and complete versions at present seem to exist only in America.[45]

No. 9.

_Philander's March._

This rhyme has been familiar throughout the New England States. Some of our older readers will remember how the doors of all the apartments of an old-fashioned mansion, with its great chimney in the centre, would be thrown open at an evening party, and the children march through the house, and up and down the staircase, singing the familiar air--

Come, Philanders,[46] let's be a-marching,
Every one choose from his heartstrings;[47]
Choose your true love now or never,
And be sure you choose no other.
O, my dear----, how I do love you!
Nothing on earth do I prize above you!
With a kiss now let me greet you,
And I will never, never leave you.

_Plymouth, Mass._ (about 1800).

Another version:

Come, Philander, let us be a-marching,
From the ranks there's no deserting,
Choose your own, your own true lover,
See that you don't choose any other;
Now farewell, dear love, farewell,
We're all a-marching, so farewell.

_Deerfield, Mass._

Why, of all the names of the Damon and Sylvia class, _Philander_,[48] which, according to derivation, should mean fondness for the male sex, came to be a proverbial expression for an amorous person, and contributed to the English language a verb (to philander) we cannot say. Children's intelligence made wild work of the word. A New England variation was, "Come, _Lysanders_;" and in Pennsylvania, on the Maryland border, the first line has been ingeniously distorted into "_Cumberland city-town-boys_" marching! Cumberland being a town in the latter state.

No. 10.

_Marriage._

(1.) By this name was known in Massachusetts, at the beginning of the century, an elaborate dance (for such, though practised in a Puritan community, it really was) which has a very decided local flavor.

Partners having been chosen, the girl says--

"Come, my dearest partner, and join both heart and hand;
You want you a wife, and I want me a man.
So married we will be, if we can agree,
We'll march down together, so happy are we."

The partners now separate, the lad saying--

"Now I must part, and leave you alone,
So fare you well, my true love, till I return."

The maid replies--

"I mourn, I mourn, for that is the cry,
I'm left all alone, and I'm sure I shall die."

But, after walking round, rejoins her partner, who welcomes her--

"Oh, here comes my love, and how do you do?
And how have you been since I parted with you?"

The pair then address the row--

"There is a scene secure from all harm,
Please to give us joy by the raising of the arm."

The other players, who stand each lad opposite his lass, raise arms, and the couple walk down under the arch so formed, pausing at the foot--

"Now we are married, and never more to part,
Please to give a kiss from the bottom of the heart."

And the game proceeds with the next couple.

_Scituate, Mass._ (about 1800).

(2.) No better as respects poetry, but with more evidence of old English origin, is the following game, in which couples circle in a ring about two chairs, from time to time changing partners. We have not been clearly informed of the way of playing, but presume that at the time of the change the youth or girl in the ring must select a mate.

"On the green carpet here we stand,
Take your true love in your hand;
Take the one whom you profess
To be the one whom you love best."

A change of partners.

"Very well done, said Johnny Brown,
Is this the way to London town?
Stand ye here, stand ye there,
Till your true love doth appear."

A mate is finally chosen, and the ring sings--

"Oh, what a beautiful choice you've made!
Don't you wish you'd longer stayed?
[Give her a kiss, and send her away,
And tell her she can no longer stay."[49]]

_Salem, Mass._

The "green carpet" is, of course, the grass, on which the village dance proceeds in the summer-time,[50] and the remains of an ancient "carol" appear in the corrupt rhyme.

(3.) To the game of _Marriage_, as played in France and Italy, the following closely corresponds:

A boy and girl having been chosen by singing our No. 17, and standing in the centre of the ring, the game proceeds, with imitative motion and gesture--

"Row the boat! Row the boat!
Let the boat stand!
I think ---- ---- is a handsome young man;
I think ---- ---- is as handsome as he,
And they shall be married, if they can agree."[51]

Such short rhymes are not used independently, but joined to some fragment of a ballad, which they serve to turn into a game, as may be seen in our No. 12.

(4.) We take this opportunity to give one or two other familiar examples of kissing rounds:

Had I as many eyes as the stars in the skies,
And were I as old as Adam,
I'd fall on my knees, and kiss whom I please,
Your humble servant, madam.

In Boston, half a century since, this ran--

As many _wives as the stars in the skies_,
And each _as old as Adam_, etc.

In Georgia, at the present day--

Many, many stars are in the skies,
And _each as old as Adam_, etc.

(5.) The following is yet more inane, yet it furnishes a curious example of correspondence--

"---- ---- languishes."
"For whom?"
"For ---- ----."

This is not much more crude than the French equivalent.[52]

(6.) We may add that the familiar American game, known as "Pillow," or "Pillows and Keys" (why _keys_?), in which a player kneels on a _pillow_ and solicits a kiss, is no doubt a descendant of the "Cushion Dance," alluded to by old dramatists.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] The game, half a century since, was played by boys as well as girls. New England variations are numerous; thus for the last line of verse 4, "I'll turn my face another way." For verse 7, "Go through the kitchen and through the hall, and choose the fairest one of all." A New York variety puts the last words into the mouth of the bride: "I'm so happy that I could sing."

[36] So in an English variety:

"I will give you pots and pans, I will give you brass,
I will give you anything for a pretty lass."

"No."

"I will give you gold and silver, I will give you pearl,
I will give you anything for a pretty girl."

"Take one, take one, the fairest you may see."

Halliwell, "Nursery Rhymes."

[37] The ending is like ours--

"Prenez la plus jolie de toutes."
"Voilà la plus jolie de toutes."

[38]

Eco la Nina al campo--fra tanti suoni e canti;
Eco la Nina al campo--olà, olà, olà.

Faciamo un bel' inchino--profondo al suo rispeto;
Faciamo un bel' inchino--olà, olà, olà.

[39] A New Hampshire fragment has here,

"The _scornful maid_, she won't come out,"

which seems more genuine.

[40] An English variety, printed a century since in "Gammer Gurton's Garland," has as the first line of the refrain,

_My-a-dildin, my-a-daldin_;

and as the alternate line,

_Lily white and shine-a_.

The last phrase comes to us as the fragment of a game in Massachusetts, about 1800. We are reminded of the songs of Autolycus in "A Winter's Tale," "with such delicate burdens of _dildos_ and fadings."

[41] Here verses may be improvised at pleasure; for instance, said the little reciter,

"I'll give to you a dress of black,
A green silk apron and a white cap,
If you will marry," etc.

[42] In the English version "to ring up _your maidens_."

[43] Variation: "Here comes an old woman from Sunderland," or "Cumberland."

[44] In Canada the game goes:

J'ai tant d'enfants à marier!
J'ai tant d'enfants à marier!
Grand Dieu! je n' sais comment
Pouvoir en marier tant.

Mademoiselle, on parle à vous;
On dit que vous aimez beaucoup;
Si c'est vrai que vous aimez,
Entrez dans la danse, entrez!

[45] See Note; also No. 154, and Note.

[46] Usually plural.

[47] Or, dialectically, "every one his true lover _sarching_."

[48] "Were his men like him, he'd command a regiment of Damons and _Philanders_."--"Two Faces under One Hood," by Thomas Dibdin.

[49] From another version.

[50] As Lodge has it--

Footing it featlie on the grassie ground,
These damsels circling with their brightsome faires--

[51] Fifty years ago the corresponding French game was still played as a "game of society"--

Eh! qui marirons-nous?
Mademoiselle, ce sera vous:
Entrez dans la danse;
J'aimerai qui m'aimera, j'aimerai qui m'aime.

The round then proceeds--

Eh! qui lui donnerons-nous?
Mon beau monsieur, ce sera vous.
Amans, embrassez-vous, etc.

[52]

"Qui est-ce qui languira?"
"Ce sera ---- ---- qui languira."
"---- ---- la guerira."

_French game in Cambrai_.

II.

_HISTORIES._

A fresh wreath of crimson roses
Round my forehead twine will I;
I will wear them for a garland,
Wear them till the day I die.

I desire that in my coffin
May be room enough for three;
For my father, for my mother,
And my love to lie with me.

Afterwards above the coffin
We will let a flower grow;
In the morning we will plant it,
In the evening it will blow.

Wayfarers will pause demanding,
"Whose may be the flower there?"
"'Tis the flower of Rosetina,
She who died of love's despair."

_Round of Girls in Venice._

No. 11.

_Miss Jennia Jones._

This childish drama has been familiar in the Middle States since the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The Scotch equivalent shows that the heroine's name was originally _Jenny jo_. "Jo" is an old English word for sweetheart, probably a corruption of _joy_, French _joie_, used as a term of endearment. _Jenny my joy_ has thus been modernized into Miss Jennia (commonly understood to be a contraction for Virginia) Jones!

The story is originally a love-tale. The young lady, like Rosetina in the Venetian song (a part of which we have translated above) dies of blighted affection and the prohibition of cruel parents. The suitor, in America, is represented by feminine friends. Yet the drama has lived; a proof that in singing and playing love-tales the children rather imitated their elders than followed a necessity of their own nature.

From various versions we select the following:

A mother, seated. Miss Jennia Jones stands behind her chair, or reclines on her lap as if lying sick. A dancer advances from the ring.

"I've come to see Miss Jennia Jones,
Miss Jennia Jones, Miss Jennia Jones--
I've come to see Miss Jennia Jones,
And how is she to-day?"

"She's up-stairs washing,
Washing, washing--
She's up-stairs washing,
You cannot see her to-day."

The questions are repeated to the same air for every day of the week, and the reply is that Miss Jennia Jones is ironing, baking, or scrubbing. She is then represented as sick, as worse, and finally as dead, which announcement is received with signs of deep grief. The dancers of the ring then discuss the costume in which she shall be buried:

"What shall we dress her in,
Dress her in, dress her in;
What shall we dress her in--
Shall it be blue?"

"Blue is for sailors,
So that will never do."

"What shall we dress her in,
Shall it be red?"

"Red is for firemen,
So that will never do."

"Pink is for babies,
So that will never do."

"Green is forsaken,
So that will never do."

"Black is for mourners,
So that will never do."

"White is for dead people,
So that will just do."

"Where shall we bury her?
Under the apple-tree."

After the ceremonies of burial have been completed, the ghost of Miss Jennia Jones suddenly arises--

"I dreamt I saw a ghost last night,
Ghost last night, ghost last night--
I dreamt I saw a ghost last night,
Under the apple-tree!"

The ring breaks up, and flies with shrieks, and the one caught is to represent Miss Jennia Jones.

An interesting feature of our game is the symbolism of color. "Each of these colors," says an informant, "which denoted a profession, also typified a feeling. Thus, blue, which is said to be for _sailors_, suggested _constancy_."

In one version of the game, which comes to us from an Irish source, _green_ is for _grief, red_ for _joy, black_ for _mourning_, and _white_ for _death_. In another such version, _white_ is for _angels_, and is the chosen color; a reading we would willingly adopt, as probably more ancient, and as expressing the original seriousness of the whole, and the feeling which the color of white symbolized. In more common Irish phrase, _green_ is for _Irish_, _yellow_ for _Orangemen_. In Cincinnati, _purple_ is for _kings_ and _queens_, _gray_ for _Quakers_. In a Connecticut variation, _yellow_ is for _glad folks_.

An English saying corresponds closely to the significance of colors in our game:

Blue is true, yellow is jealous,
Green is forsaken, red is brazen,
White is love, and black is death.

A variation from West Virginia makes the question apply to the dress of the mourners, not of the deceased: "What shall we dress in?" "In our red, in our blue," etc., are rejected, and the decision is, "In our white."

Such imitations of burial ceremonies are not merely imaginative. It was once the custom for the girls of a village to take an active part in the interment of one of their number. In a Flemish town, a generation since, when a young girl died, her body was carried to the church, thence to the cemetery, by her former companions. "The religious ceremony over, and the coffin deposited in the earth, all the young girls, holding in one hand the mortuary cloth, returned to the church, chanting the _maiden's dance_ with a spirit and rhythm scarcely conceivable by one who has not heard it. The pall which they carried to the church was of sky-blue silk, having in the middle a great cross of white silk, on which were set three crowns of silver."

The following is a rendering of the "Maiden's Dance:"

In heaven is a dance;
Alleluia!
There dance all the maids;
Benedicamus Domino--
Alleluia!

It is for Amelia;
Alleluia!
We dance like the maids;
Benedicamus Domino--
Alleluia!

Such touching customs show the profound original earnestness underlying the modern child's play, as well as the primitive religious significance of the dance. In England, too, it was the practice for the bearers of a virgin to be maids, as a ballad recites:

A garland fresh and faire
Of lilies there was made,
In signe of her virginity,
And on her coffin laid.
Six maidens, all in white,
Did beare her to the grave.

No. 12.

_Down She Comes as White as Milk._

This round is remarkable for being introduced, wherever it occurs, by a stanza with a different melody, whereby the ballad is turned into a game. By this introduction the hero and heroine of the action are selected.

"Little Sally Waters," or "Uncle John," having been first played, the round proceeds about the couple standing in the ring:

He knocks at the door, and picks up a pin,
And asks if Miss ---- is in.

She neither is in, she neither is out,
She's in the garret a-walking about.

Down she comes as white as milk,
A rose in her bosom, as soft as silk.

She takes off her gloves, and shows me a ring;
To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding begins.[53]

_Concord, Mass._ (_before 1800_).

The version now played in New York streets is corrupt, but has a spirited melody:

Wa-ter, wa-ter, wild-flowers, grow-ing up so high;
We are all young la-dies, And we are sure to die,
Ex-cept-ing Su-sie Al-len, She is the fin-est flow-er.
Fie, fie, fie for shame; Turn about and tell your beau's name.

The girl complying, the ballad proceeds--

Mr. _Nobody_ is a nice young man,
He comes to the door with his hat in his hand.

Down she comes, all dressed in silk,
A rose in her bosom, as white as milk.

She takes off her gloves, she shows me her ring,
To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding begins.

The song before us furnishes a good example of the persistency of childish tradition. Not only is it still current in New England and the Middle States, with words closely corresponding to those given in our version of almost a century since, but these words are also nearly identical with the language of the round as we are told it is sung at the present day in Ireland.

Of a type similar to the foregoing is an ancient and curious, but unpublished, nursery song,[54] the first lines of which, at least, will be familiar to some of our readers:

Sing, sparrow, sing!
What shall I sing?
All the boys in our town have gone courting;
All but little Charley,
And he stays at home,
And he says he'll have Mary,
Or else he'll have none.

Row, boat, row!
Where shall I row?
Up to little Mary's door.
Out jumps little Charley in his boots and spurs,
And goes to the door, and pulls at the string--
"Where's little Mary? Is she within?"

"Miss Mary's up-stairs, a-making a cap."
Then down comes Miss Mary, as white as the milk,
All dressed in pink posies and sweet pretty silk,
And goes to the cupboard, and takes up the can,
And drinks to little Charley, a pretty little man.
He takes her in his lap, and pares her nails,[55]
And gives her a posy of peacock's tails,
And rings and jewels fit for her hand,
And tells little Mary he'll come again.

The mention in this rhyme of the cupboard and the can carries us to a time not so remote indeed in years, but far removed in customs. At the beginning of the century, in the old colonial towns, tumblers were unknown; the silver can stood on the table, and was passed from hand to hand at the meal, the elders drinking first. This usage was accompanied with much ceremony. An informant (born in Salem, Mass.), whose memory goes back almost to the beginning of the century, recollects how, when it came to be his turn to drink, he was obliged to rise and wipe his lips (the use of the same vessel by a whole family made this habit proper), and repeat the words, while parents and friends laid down knives and forks and looked on, "Duty to Sir and Ma'am, respects to aunt, love to brother and sister, and health to myself." Sometimes, he said, sensitive children would rather "go dry" than endure this ordeal.

No. 13.

_Little Sally Waters._

A girl in the centre of the ring, seated, and covering her face with her hands. At the word "rise," she chooses and salutes any one whom she pleases.

Little Sally Waters,
Sitting in the sun,
Crying and weeping,
For a young man.
Rise, Sally, rise,
Dry your weeping eyes,
Fly to the East,
Fly to the West,
Fly to the one you love best.

In the north of England the heroine's name is _Sally Walker_:

Sally Walker, Sally Walker,
Come spring-time and love--
She's lamenting, she's lamenting,
All for her young man.

A ballad situation has been united with a dance-rhyme.

No. 14.

_Here Sits the Queen of England._

Here sits the Queen of England in her chair,
She has lost the true love that she had last year;
So rise upon your feet, and kiss the first you meet,
For there's many around your chair.

_Georgia._

No. 15.

_Green Gravel._

A girl sits in the ring, and turns her head gravely as a messenger advances, while the rest sing to a pleasing air--

Green gravel, green gravel, the grass is so green,
And all the free _masons_ (maidens) are _ashamed_ (arrayed?) to
"be seen;"[56]
O Mary, O Mary, your true love is dead,
The king sends you a letter to turn back your head.[57]

There are only two lines left of the ballad, or rather reminiscence of one.

A French round begins similarly: "Ah, the bringer of letters! What news is this? Ah, it is news that you must change your love.[58] Must I change my love, I prefer to die; he is not here, nor in France; he is in England, where he serves the gracious king." To this fragment belong the ancient verses which we have set as the motto of Chapter II. of our Introduction. All the other ladies of Paris are at the dance; the king's daughter alone "regarde à coté," "turns her head," looking at a messenger who is approaching; he brings news of her love's unfaithfulness; a rival skilled in magic arts has enchanted him, in the far country where he is warring. There is no more left of the ancient ballad, which, we presume, went on to describe her departure in man's costume, and rescue of her lover. We cannot prove the identity of our fragment, but we see how the child's game may have arisen.

No. 16.

_Uncle John._

A ring of dancers who circle and sing--

Uncle John is very sick, what shall we send him?
A piece of pie, a piece of cake, a piece of apple-dumpling.[59]
What shall we send it in? In a piece of paper.
Paper is not fine[60] enough; in a golden saucer.
Who shall we send it by? By the governor's[61] daughter.
Take her by the lily-white hand, and lead her over the water.

After the words "governor's daughter" all the dancers fall down, and the last down stands apart, selects her confidential friend, and imparts with great mystery the _initials_ of some boy in whom she takes an interest. She then returns, and takes her place in the ring with face reversed, while the friend announces the initials, and the dancers sing, using the letters given--

A. B., so they say,
Goes a-courting night and day,
Sword and pistol by his side,
And ---- ---- to be his bride;
Takes her by the lily-white hand,
And leads her o'er the water--
Here's a kiss, and there's a kiss
For Mr. ----'s daughter.

If the person representing "Uncle John" be a boy, his full name comes first in this rhyme, and the initials of the girl are used.

The choice of the confidante is said to require as much deliberation as the selection of an ambassador of state.

_Hartford, Conn._

This is one of the most familiar of all children's rounds in our country. It is, we see, a love-history; and, thrice vulgarized as it is, bears traces of ancient origin, and may perhaps be the last echo of the mediæval song in which an imprisoned knight is saved from approaching death by the daughter of the king, or soldan, who keeps him in confinement.[62]

No. 17.

_King Arthur was King William's Son._

A row of hats of various sizes, and belonging to both sexes, are placed on the floor. The leader picks up the first hat, and puts it on his own head, marching and singing the verse. He then takes up the next hat, and places it on the head of any one he pleases; the person chosen stands behind him, and they once more march, singing. The process is continued, until all the company are arranged in line:

King Arthur was King William's son,
And when the battle he had won,
Upon his breast he wore a star,
And it was called the sign of war.

_Orange, New Jersey._

The following rhyme is exceedingly familiar, throughout the Middle and Southern States, as a kissing-round:

King William was King James's son, And all the roy-al race he run; Upon
his breast he wore a star, And it was called the sign of war.
King William was King James's son,[63]
And all the royal race he run;
Upon his head he wore a star.
Star of the East,
Star of the West,
Star of the one you love the best.
If she's not here don't take her part,
But choose another with all your heart.
Down on the carpet you must kneel,
As the grass grows on the field,
Salute your bride, and kiss her sweet,
And rise again upon your feet.

The round is also familiar in Ireland. We learn from an informant that in her town it was formerly played in a peculiar manner. Over the head of a girl, who stood in the centre of a ring, was held a shawl, sustained by four others grasping the corners. The game then proceeded as follows:

King William was King George's son--
_From the Bay of Biscay, O!_
Upon his breast he wore a star--
_Find your way to English schools._

Then followed the game-rhyme, repeated with each stanza, "Go choose you East," etc. King William is then supposed to enter--

The first girl that I loved so dear,
Can it be she's gone from me?

If she's not here when the night comes on,
Will none of you tell me where she is gone?

He recognizes the disguised girl--

There's heart beneath the willow-tree,
There's no one here but my love and me.

"He had gone to the war, and promised to marry her when he came back. She wrapped a shawl about her head, to see if he would recognize her." This was all the reciter could recollect; the lines of the ballad were sung by an old woman, the ring answering with the game-rhyme.

_Waterford, Ireland._

The round now in use in the town whence this comes, but where the ballad is not at present known, begins:

King William was King George's son--
_From the Bay of Biscay, O!_
Upon his breast he wore a star--
_Point your way across the sea._

In the year 1287, Folke Algotson, a high-born Swedish youth, carried off to Norway (at that time the refuge of such boldness) Ingrid, a daughter of the "law-man" or judge of East Gothland, who was betrothed to a Danish noble. Popular ballads attached themselves to the occurrence, which are still preserved. The substance of that version of the story with which we are concerned is as follows: A youth loves a maid, who returns his affection, but in his absence her friends have "given" her to another. He rides to the wedding ceremony with a troop of followers. The bride, seeing him approach, and wishing to test his affection, calls on her maidens to "take off her gold crown, and coif her in linen white." But the hero at once recognizes his love, mounts with her on horseback, and flees to Norway.

We cannot believe the resemblance to be accidental, and look upon our rhymes as a branch from the same ancient--but not historical--root.

No. 18.

_Little Harry Hughes and the Duke's Daughter._

The writer was not a little surprised to hear from a group of colored children, in the streets of New York city (though in a more incoherent form) the following ballad. He traced the song to a little girl living in one of the cabins near Central Park, from whom he obtained this version. The hut, rude as the habitation of a recent squatter on the plains, was perched on a rock still projecting above the excavations which had been made on either side, preparatory to the erection of the conventional "brown-stone fronts" of a New York street. Rocks flung by carelessly managed explosions flew over the roof, and clouds of dust were blown by every wind into the unswept hovel. In this unlikely spot lingered the relics of old English folk-song, amid all the stir of the busiest of cities. The mother of the family had herself been born in New York, of Irish parentage, but had learned from her own mother, and handed down to her children, such legends of the past as the ballad we cite. A pretty melody gave popularity to the verse, and so the thirteenth-century tradition, extinct perhaps in its native soil, had taken a new lease of existence as a song of negro children in New York.

Under the thin disguise of the heading will be recognized the ballad of "Hugh of Lincoln and the Jew's Daughter," the occasion of which is referred by Matthew Paris to the year 1255. Chaucer, in exquisite verse, has made his Prioress recount the same story: how the child,

This gemme of chastitè, this emeraude,
And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,

has his throat cut by "false Jewes," and, cast into a pit, still sings his chant in honor of

This welle of mercy, Christes moder sweet;

and, when discovered, cannot be buried in peace till the magic grain is removed which "that blissful maiden fre" has laid under his tongue.

The conclusion is, in our version, only implied. In that given by Jamieson the murdered child, speaking from the well, bids his mother prepare the winding-sheet, for he will meet her in the morn "at the back of merry Lincoln;" and the funeral service is performed by angels.

It was on a May, on a midsummer's day,
When it rained, it did rain small;
And little Harry Hughes and his playfellows all
Went out to play the ball.

He knocked it up, and he knocked it down,
He knocked it o'er and o'er;
The very first kick little Harry gave the ball,
He broke the duke's windows all.

She came down, the youngest duke's daughter,
She was dressed in green;
"Come back, come back, my pretty little boy,
And play the ball again."

"I won't come back, and I daren't come back,
Without my playfellows all;
And if my mother she should come in,
She'd make it the bloody ball."[64]

She took an apple out of her pocket,
And rolled it along the plain;
Little Harry Hughes picked up the apple,
And sorely rued the day.

She takes him by the lily-white hand,
And leads him from hall to hall,
Until she came to a little dark room,
That none could hear him call.

She sat herself on a golden chair,
Him on another close by;
And there's where she pulled out her little penknife
That was both sharp and fine.

Little Harry Hughes had to pray for his soul,
For his days were at an end;
She stuck her penknife in little Harry's heart,
And first the blood came very thick, and then came very thin.[65]

She rolled him in a quire of tin,
That was in so many a fold;
She rolled him from that to a little draw-well
That was fifty fathoms deep.

"Lie there, lie there, little Harry," she cried,
"And God forbid you to swim,
If you be a disgrace to me,
Or to any of my friends."

The day passed by, and the night came on,
And every scholar was home,
And every mother had her own child,
But poor Harry's mother had none.[66]

She walked up and down the street,
With a little sally-rod[67] in her hand;
And God directed her to the little draw-well,
That was fifty fathoms deep.

"If you be there, little Harry," she said,
"And God forbid you to be,
Speak one word to your own dear mother,
That is looking all over for thee."

"This I am, dear mother," he cried,
"And lying in great pain,
With a little penknife lying close to my heart,
And the duke's daughter she has me slain.

"Give my blessing to my schoolfellows all,
And tell them to be at the church,
And make my grave both large and deep,
And my coffin of hazel and green birch.

"Put my Bible at my head,
My busker[68] (?) at my feet,
My little prayer-book at my right side,
And sound will be my sleep."

No. 19.

_Barbara Allen._

In the first quarter of the century, this celebrated ballad was still used in New England as a children's game or dance at evening parties. We have here, perhaps, the latest English survival, in cultivated society, of a practice which had once been universal. It is noteworthy that while, in the town of which we speak,[69] the establishment, at the period alluded to, of a children's dancing-school was bitterly opposed, and the children of "church members" were hardly permitted to attend, no such prohibition applied to amusements like this, which were shared in irrespective of sectarian prejudice, by boys as well as by girls.

Our informant describes the performers as standing in couples, consisting each of a boy and a girl, facing each other. An elderly lady, who was in particular request at children's parties on account of her extensive stock of lore of the sort, sang the ballad, to which the dancers kept time with a slow metrical movement, balancing without any considerable change of place. At the final words, "Barbara Allen," which end every stanza, a courtesy took the place of the usual refrain. The whole performance is described as exceedingly pretty, stately, and decorous. It cannot be doubted that the version of the ballad sung was traditional, but we have not been able to secure it.

FOOTNOTES:

[53] The song exhibits numerous marks of antiquity. "Picks up a pin" was originally, no doubt, "pulls at the pin." The word "garret" here appears to correspond to the Scandinavian "high-loft," the upper part and living-room of an ancient house. The third verse is a very ancient ballad commonplace--

Shee's as soft as any silk,
And as white as any milk.

"Ballad of Kinge Adler," in the Percy MS.

Instead of "Water, water, wild-flowers," as printed on the next page, we find in Philadelphia, "_Lily, lily, white-flower_," which may have been the original, and reminds us of the refrains of certain ballads. In Yorkshire, England, "_Willy, willy, wall-flower_."

A specimen of the quintessence of absurdity is the following street-song:

Swallow, swallow, weeping
About a willow tree,
All the boys in Fiftieth Street
Are dying down below;
Excepting ---- ----
His love he can't deny,
For he loves ---- ----
And she loves him beside, etc.

Notwithstanding the vulgarity of these stanzas, and of others which are employed for the same purpose, the practice which they illustrate--namely, the adaptation of a ballad to the dance by uniting with it a game-rhyme--is no doubt ancient. We have other examples in the numbers which follow.

[54] "Lines told to Lydia Jackson (now Mrs. R. W. Emerson, of Concord, Mass.) by her aunt, Joanna Cotton, in 1806-7-8, in Plymouth."

[55] Observe how the nursery song differs from the children's dance. The nurse wishes to persuade the little child in her lap that _paring nails_ is a mark of great regard and affection, as, while performing that office, she chants the ballad to amuse her charge.

[56] "It is on a summer's tide, when ladies' hearts are free and gay, when they go arrayed in ermine and silk. The hart strikes his horn against the linden, and the fish leaps in the stream."--_Icelandic Ballad._

[57] Some little friends, feeling the unsatisfactoriness of the fragment, added a couplet to the dance--

O Mary, O Mary, your true love's not slain,
The king sends you a letter _to turn round again_.

[58]

Eh! la _clinquet_ (?) de lettres, que nouvelle est celle-ci?
Eh! ce sont des nouvelles qu'il faut changer d'ami.

[59] Or, "Three gold wishes, three good kisses, and a slice of _ginger_!"

[60] Or, "strong."

[61] Or, "king's daughter," "queen's daughter."

[62] See French ballad referred to in the Appendix.

[63] Or, "King _George's_ son." For convenience sake, the last couplet of the first version is printed with the melody.

[64]

For if my mother should chance to know,
She'd make my blood to fall.--_Version of Sir Egerton Brydges._

[65]

And first came out the thick, thick blood,
And syne came out the thin;
And syne came out the bonny heart's blood,
There was nae mair within.

_Jamieson._

[66]

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' the bairns came hame,
When every lady gat hame her son,
The lady Maisry gat nane.

_Jamieson._

[67] Sallow; willow.

[68] In other versions it is "Testament" or "Catechism."

[69] Keene, New Hampshire.

III.

_PLAYING AT WORK._

"The king (George III.) danced all night, and finished with the
_Hemp-dressers_, that lasted two hours."--_Memoir of Mrs.
Delany._

No. 20.

_Virginia Reel._

This dance, which we will not here attempt to describe, is no doubt well known to our readers; but we doubt if any of them has reflected on its significance. It is, in fact, an imitation of _weaving_. The first movements represent the shooting of the shuttle from side to side, and the passage of the woof over and under the threads of the warp; the last movements indicate the tightening of the threads, and bringing together of the cloth.[70]

There is a very similar Swedish dance, called "Weaving Woollen," in which the words sung are--

Weave the woollen and bind it together,
Let the shuttle go round!

The originally imitative character of the dance is thus well illustrated. The "Hemp-dressers' Dance," in which George III. figured, seems to have resembled this, according to the description quoted in the memoir referred to in the heading of this chapter.

No. 21.

_Oats, Pease, Beans, and Barley Grows._

This round, although very familiar to all American children, seems, strangely enough, to be unknown in Great Britain; yet it is still a favorite in France, Provence, Spain, Italy, Sicily, Germany, and Sweden; it was played by Froissart (born 1337), and Rabelais (born 1483); while the general resemblance of the song in European countries proves that in the five centuries through which we thus trace it, even the words have undergone little change. Like the first game of our collection, it is properly a dance rather of young people than of children; and a comparative examination of versions inclines us to the belief that it is of Romance descent. The lines of the French refrain,[71] and the general form of the dance, suggest that the song may probably have had (perhaps in remote classic time) a religious and symbolic meaning, and formed part of rustic festivities designed to promote the fertility of the fields; an object which undoubtedly formed the original purpose of the May festival. So much for conjecture; but, in any case, it is pleasant to think of the many generations of children, in so many widely separated lands, who have rejoiced in the pretty game.

The ring circles, singing, about a child in the centre--

Oats, pease, beans, and barley grows,
Oats, pease, beans, and barley grows;
How you, nor I, nor nobody knows,
Oats, pease, beans, and barley grows.

The children now pause, and sing with appropriate gestures--

Thus the farmer sows his seed,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
Stamps his foot, and claps his hands,
And turns about to view his lands.

Waiting for a partner,
Waiting for a partner,
Open the ring and take her in,
And kiss her when you get her in.

The boy selects a girl, and the two kneel in the ring, and salute--

Now you're married, you must obey,
You must be true to all you say,
You must be kind, you must be good,
_And make your husband chop the wood_.

What we have said of the permanency of the words applies only to the action, the essential part, of the game. The _amatory chorus_, by which the song is made to serve the purpose of love-making, is very variable. Thus we have the quaint conclusion of the last line at greater length:

And now you're married in Hymen's band,
You must obey your wife's command;
You must obey your constant good,
And keep your wife in hickory wood--
Split the wood and carry it in, [_twice_]
And then she'll let you kiss her again.

"Splitting the wood" was a very troublesome part of the New England farmer's ménage.

More commonplace are the choruses:

You must be good, you must be true,
And do as you see others do.

Or--

And live together all your life,
And I pronounce you man and wife.

Or again--

And love each other like sister and brother,
And now kneel down and kiss each other.[72]

In place of "sister and brother," the malicious wit of little girls substituted "cats and dogs."[73]

In the early part of the century the essential stanza went thus in New Hampshire:

Thus my father sows his seed,
Stands erect and takes his ease,
Stamps his foot, and claps his hands,
Whirls about, and thus he stands.

The Swedish quatrain is nearly the same:

I had a father, he sowed this way,
And when he had done, he stood this way;
He stamped with his foot, he clapped with his hand,
He turned about, he was so glad.

The French rhyme, by its exact correspondence, proves the great antiquity of the formula.[74]

The German game, as is often the case with German children's games and ballads in general, is more modernized than in the other tongues, and has become a coarse jest. It is represented how the farmer sows his oats, cuts it, binds it, carries it home, stores it, threshes it, takes it to market, sells it, spends the money in carousal, comes home drunk, and quarrels with his wife, because she has cooked him no supper! Verily, a satire from the lips of children!

Fauriel, in his history of Provençal literature, alludes to this song, which it seems he had seen danced in Provence, and considers to be derived from, and to represent, choral dances of Greek rustics. "The words of the song," he says, speaking of these ancient dances, "described an action, a succession of different situations, which the dancers reproduced by their gestures. The song was divided into many stanzas, and terminated by a refrain alike for all. The dancers acted or gesticulated only to imitate the action or situation described in each stanza; at the refrain they took each other by the hand and danced a round, with a movement more or less lively. There are everywhere popular dances derived from these, which more or less resemble them.... I remember to have seen in Provence some of these dances, of which the theme seems to be very ancient--one, among the rest, imitating successively the habitual actions of a poor laborer, working in his field, sowing his wheat or oats, mowing, and so on to the end. Each of the numerous couplets of the song was sung with a slow and dragging motion, as if to imitate the fatigue and the sullen air of the poor laborer; and the refrain was of a very lively movement, the dancers then giving way to all their gayety."[75]

The French, Italian, and Spanish versions of this game also represent a series of actions, sowing, reaping, etc., of which our own rhyme has retained only one stanza. There is a whole class of similar rounds, which describe the labors of the farmer, vine-dresser, etc. That such a song, danced in sowing-time, and representing the progress and abundance of the crop, should be supposed to bring a blessing on the labors of the year, is quite in conformity with what we know of popular belief, ancient and modern. When a French savant asked the peasants of La Châtre why they performed the dance of "Threading the Needle" (see No. 29), the answer was, "To make the hemp grow." It is not in the least unlikely that the original of the present chant was sung, with a like object, by Italian rustics in the days of Virgil.

No. 22.

_Who'll Be the Binder?_

Couples circle in a ring about a single player--

It rains, it hails, it's cold stormy weather,
In comes the farmer drinking all the cider;
You be the reaping-boy and I'll be the binder;
I've lost my true love, and don't know where to find her.

Each girl then lets go of her partner's arm, and takes the arm of the one in advance, and the solitary player endeavors meanwhile to slip into the line.

The following is a variation:

It snows and it blows, and it's cold frosty weather,
Here comes the farmer drinking all his cider;
I'll be the reaper, who'll be the binder?
I've lost my true love, where shall I find her?

It is played by children in New York city as a kissing-game in the ring, as follows:

In comes the farmer, drinking all the cider;
I have a true love and don't know where to find her.
Go round the ring, and see if you can find her;
If you cannot find her, go and choose another one.

We meet our game once more in North Germany. But its prettiest form is among the Fins of the Baltic coast, where it is extremely pleasing and pastoral:

Reap we the oat harvest,
Who will come and bind it?
Ah, perhaps his darling,
Treasure of his bosom.
Where have I last seen her?
Yesterday at evening,
Yesterday at morning!
When will she come hither,
With her little household,
With her gentle escort,
People of her village?
Who has not a partner,
Let him pay a forfeit!

It is a remarkable fact that, even where this simple people have borrowed the dramatic idea of an amusement from their more civilized neighbors, they have developed it with a sweetness and grace which put the latter to shame.

No. 23.

_As We Go Round the Mulberry Bush._

As we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush;
As we go round the mulberry bush,
So early in the morning.

This is the way we wash our clothes,
All of a Monday morning.

This is the way we iron our clothes,
All of a Tuesday morning.

This is the way we scrub our floor,
All of a Wednesday morning.

This is the way we mend our clothes,
All of a Thursday morning.

This is the way we sweep the house,
All of a Friday morning.

This is the way we bake our bread,
All of a Saturday morning.

This is the way we go to church,
All of a Sunday morning.

In Massachusetts the song goes--

Here we go round the _barberry bush_,
So early in the morning.

A variation makes the last line--

All on a frosty morning.

No. 24.

_Do, Do, Pity my Case._

Do, do, pity my case,
In some lady's garden;
My clothes to wash when I get home,
In some lady's garden.

Do, do, pity my case,
In some lady's garden;
My clothes to iron when I get home,
In some lady's garden.

And so on, the performers lamenting the duty which lies upon them of scrubbing their floors, baking their bread, etc.

_Louisiana._

This pretty dance, with its idiomatic English, which comes to us from the extreme South, is obviously not modern. The chorus refers, not to the place of the labor, but to the locality of the dance: it may have been originally _in my lady's garden_. Our informant remembers the game as danced by negro children, their scanty garments flying as the ring spun about the trunk of some large tree; but (though the naive appeal to pity may seem characteristic of Southern indolence) this is evidently no negro song.

No. 25.

_When I Was a Shoemaker._

A ROUND.

When I was a shoemaker,
And a shoemaker was I,
This way,[76] and this way,
And this way went I.

When I was a gentleman,
And a gentleman was I,
This way, and this way,
And this way went I.

When I was a lady,
And a lady was I,
This way, and this way,
And this way went I.

So on, indefinitely. The gentleman places his hands in his waistcoat pockets, and promenades up and down; the lady gathers her skirts haughtily together; the fireman makes a sound in imitation of the horns which firemen formerly blew; the shoemaker and hair-dresser are represented by appropriate motions, etc.

_New York streets._

As with most street-games, further inquiry has shown us that the song is old in America. Not merely the substance (which is identical with our last two numbers), but also the expression, is paralleled in France and Italy, and even on the extreme limits of European Russia.

The well-known French name of this game "The Bridge of Avignon,"[77] indicates a high antiquity. This bridge, which figures in French nursery-lore as London Bridge does in our own, was built in 1177. Bridges, in the Middle Age, were the most important structures in the land, places of festivity and solemnity, dances, trials, and executions.

No. 26.

_Here We Come Gathering Nuts of May._

Two opposite rows of girls. One side advances and sings, the other side replying:

"Here we come gathering nuts of May, [_thrice_]
On a May morning early."

"Whom will you gather for nuts of May,
On a May morning early?"

"We'll gather [naming a girl] for nuts of May,
On a May morning early."

"Whom will you send to fetch her away,
On a May morning early?"

"We'll send [naming a strong girl] to pull her away,
On a May morning early."

The game is continued until all players are brought to one side.

_Charlestown, W. Va._

This game is probably a recent importation from England, where it is very well known. It seems likely that the imitative dance really belongs to the season of nut-gathering,[78] and that the phrase, "Nuts of _May_," and the refrain, have crept in from its later use as a May-game.

No. 27.

_Here I Brew, and Here I Bake._

A ring of children clasp hands by clenching fingers; a single child within the circle repeats the rhyme, making appropriate gestures over successive pairs of hands; at the last words he (or she) throws himself (or herself) against what is thought the most penetrable point.

Here I brew and here I bake,
And here I make my wedding-cake,
And here I must break through.

The following is a different version:

Here I bake and here I brew,
And here I lay my wedding-shoe,
And here I must and shall break through.

If the first attempt is not successful, the player within the ring runs to attack some other point. After the ring is broken, the child on his right continues the game. In New York, a violent form of the same sport goes by the name of "Bull in the Ring."

No. 28.

_Draw a Bucket of Water._

Four girls cross hands, and pull in rhythmical movement against each other while singing, one pair changing the position of their hands from above to below that of the other pair at the words, "Here we go under," etc.

Draw a bucket of water
For my lady's daughter.
One in a rush,
Two in a rush,
Here we go under the mulberry bush.

_New York._

In Massachusetts this was a ring game:

Draw a pail of water
For my lady's daughter.
Give her a ring and a silver pin,
And pay for my lady's pop under.

At the last words the girl within the ring endeavors to pass under the hands of one of the couples.

No. 29.

_Threading the Needle._

A boy and a girl, standing each on a stool, make an arch of their hands, under which an endless chain passes, until the hands are dropped, and one of the players is enclosed.

The needle's eve
That doth supply
The thread that runs so true;
Ah! many a lass
Have I let pass
Because I wanted you.

Or--

The needle's eye
You can't pass by,
The thread it runs so true;
It has caught many a seemly lass,
And now it has caught you.

_Massachusetts._

In the following more complicated form of the game, in use half a century ago, both a boy and a girl were caught by the players who raised their arms:

The needle's eye
None can surpass
But those who travel through;
It hath caught many a smiling lass,
But now it hath caught you.

There's none so sweet
That is dressed so neat;[79]
I do intend,
Before I end,
To make this couple meet.

The pair then kissed, and the game proceeded as in "London Bridge," ending with a tug-of-war.

The name, "Threading the Needle," is still applied, in a district of central France, to a dance in which many hundred persons take part, in which from time to time the pair who form the head of the row raise their arms to allow the line to pass through, coiling and winding like a great serpent.

FOOTNOTES:

[70] An acquaintance says, that in the interior of New York State the men and girls stand in the row by sevens; an arrangement which she suggests may imitate the different colors of strands.

[71]

Oats, oats, oats,
May the good God prosper you!

[72] These choruses, which may be paralleled from Great Britain, do not in themselves belong to any particular game.