Chapter II: Part 2

In and out the windows (repeat twice)
As you have done before.
Stand and face your lover (repeat twice)
As you have done before.
Take her off to London etc.
Bring her back from London etc.
Kiss her before you leave her etc.

or

Here we go Loobeloo, here we go Loobellee,
Here we go Loobelloo, on a Sunday afternoon.
Put your right arm in, put your right arm out,
Shake it a little, a little, then turn yourself about.
Put your left arm in (repeat as before).
Put your right leg in, etc.
Put your left leg in, etc.
Put your noddle in, etc.
Put your whole self in, etc.

or (an old one)

Here comes three duks [dukes] a-riding, a-riding, a-riding,
Here comes three duks a-riding, on a Ransi-tansi-tay.
Please we’ve come to marry, to marry, to marry,
Please we’ve come to marry with a Ransi-tansi-tay.
Marry one of us Sir, us Sir etc.
Your all as stiff as pocars, pocars, etc.
We can bend as well as you Sir, you Sir etc.
Your all to black and dirty, dirty, dirty,
Your all to black and dirty, with a Ransi-tansi-tay.

or

Old Roger (or: Poor Robin) is dead and gone to his grave,
He, Hi, gone to his grave.
They planted an apple-tree over his head,
He, Hi, over his head.
The apple grew ripe and ready to drop,
He, Hi, ready to drop.
There came an old woman of Hipertihop,
He, Hi, Hipertihop,
She began a picking them up,
He, Hi, picking them up,
Old Roger got up and gave her knock,
He, Hi, gave her a knock,
Which made the old woman go hipertihop.
He, Hi, Hipertihop.

or (skipping)

I went to the animal show, and what do you think I saw there?
The Elephant sneezed and fell on his knees,
And what became of the monkey--

(Keep saying monkey untill out).

or

Early in the morning at eight o’clock
You may hear the postman’s knock,
Up jumps Mabel to open the door--
Letters, one, two, three, four.

or

We lost our cat aweek ago,
But cant tell where to find it
We sometimes hear a tuneful noise
Is daily growing weaker
So Tommy Brown we all must say
That your to be the seeker

(something is hidden and after this is sung they come and look for it.)

or

Caroline Brown from China Town,
Earning all the dollars
Ironing shirts and collars,
Busy as a bee
You can always see
Caroline Brown from China Town.

or

Ener Dena Dinah Doe
Catch a nigger by his toe,
If he hollows let him go--
Ener dena Dinah Doe.

or (one girl in the ring and two outside)

Brave news is come to town,
Polly Dawson’s married.
You can tell the parson’s wife,
You can tell the people,
You can buy the wedding-gown,
I will thread the needle.
What will you give to her for a loving token?
A piece of soap and an old cart rope,
And a candle-stick that’s broken.
Out you get and out you go for a stingy miser,
If you live till forty years I hope you will be wiser.
Brave news is come to town (repeat first six lines)
What will you give to her for a loving token?
A piece of gold and a ring to hold
The sweetest words ere spoken.
In you get and in you go....

(I forget the rest).

or

Old mother roundabout
Knocking all the kids about--
Outside Elsie’s door.
Up comes Elsie with a great big stick
And lets her know what for.

or

I was in the garden
A-picking of the peas--
I busted out a-laughing
To hear the chickens sneeze.

or

Mother got the Hooping cough
Father got the gout--
Please (Rosie Milton)
Will you walk out?

or

Half a pound of bacon,
Fry it in the pan--
No one else shall have it
But me and my young man.

or

Who’s that walking round my garden?
Only Tommy Jingle.
Don’t you steal none of my fat pigs,
Or else I’ll make you tingle.

or

My young man is so lively,
Takes me up the Wells[J] every Friday,
Wears brown boots on a Sunday,
With half a dozen buttons on his coat.

or

Here comes our jolly jolly sailors
Just arrived on shore,
We earn our money like ...
And now we’ll work for more.

or

I fell into a box of eggs--
All the yellow run down my legs,
All the white run up my shirt--
I fell into a box of eggs.

or (an old one)

Mother buy me a milking-pail, milking-pail, milking-pail,
Mother buy me a milking-pail--one, two, three.
Where’s the money coming from (repeat as above)
Sell father’s feather-bed, etc.
What’s father got to sleep in etc.
Sleep in the pigsty, etc.
What’s the pig got to sleep in, etc.
Sleep in the washing-tub, etc.
What have I got to wash in, etc.
Wash in a thimble, etc.
What have I got to sew with, etc.
Sew with a poker, etc.
What have I got to poke the fire with, etc.
Poke it with your finger, etc.
Suppose I burn my finger, etc.
Serve you right.

(The mother then tries to catch her children).

or (this is a sham)

Up you go feathery toy,
Up in the air so lightly--
Children gaze after you,
Watching your movements brightly.
Tap, tap, battledores,
Up once more you spring,
Just like little dicky-birds,
Sporting on the wing.

or (this is the real thing)

Shuttlecock, shuttlecock, if you don’t spin,
I’ll break your bones and bury your skin.

or

Appletree, peartree, plumtree pie,
How many children before I die?
One, two, three etc.

or

Three little children sitting on the sand,
All, all a-lonely (repeat both lines)
Down in the green wood shady--
There came an old woman, said Come on with me,
All, all a-lonely (repeat both lines)
Down in the green wood shady--
She stuck her pen-knife through their heart,
All, all a-lonely (repeat both lines)
Down in the green wood shady.

or

Goodbye (May), while you’re away,
Send a letter, love,
Say you’re better, love,
Don’t forget your dear old (Nell)

(Call another girl in)

or

I know a girl, sly and deceitful,
Every little tittle tat she goes and tells her people.
Long nose, ugly face, ought to be put under a glass case,
If you want to know her name,
Her name is (Evie Allen).
O (Evie Allen), get away from me,
I don’t want to speak to you,
Nor you to speak to me.
Once we were playmates,
But now we can’t agree--
O (Evie Allen), get away from me.

or (ring game)

Choose the one you love the best,
Choose the merriest of the lot.
Now you’re married I wish you joy--
First a girl and then a boy.
Seven years old and ...
Play and cuddle and kiss together--
Kiss her once, kiss her twice,
Kiss her three times over.

or

There stands a lady on a mountain,
Who she is I do not know,
All she wants is gold and silver,
All she wants is a nice young man.
Madam will you walk it, Madam will you talk it,
Madam will you marry me? No!
Not if I buy you a silver spoon
To feed your baby every afternoon?
Madam will you walk it etc. No!
Not if I buy you a nice silk hat
With seven yards of ribbon hanging down the back?
Madam will you walk it etc. No!
Not if I buy you the keys of Heaven
To let yourself in at half-past seven?
Madam will you walk it etc. Yes!
Go to church, love (repeat)
Go to church, love,--Farewell.
Put your ring on (repeat)
Put your ring on,--Farewell.
What for breakfast, love (repeat)
What for breakfast, love,--Farewell.
Boiled eggs and bread and butter (repeat twice)
On the mountain,--Farewell.
What’s for dinner, love (repeat)
What’s for dinner love,--Farewell.
Roast beef and plum pudding (repeat twice)
On the mountain,--Farewell.
What’s for tea, love (repeat)
What’s for tea, love,--Farewell.
Bread and butter, water-cress (repeat twice)
On the mountain,--Farewell.
What for supper, love (repeat)
What for supper, love,--Farewell.
Squashed flies and blackbeetles,
Squashed flies and blackbeetles,
Squashed flies and blackbeetles,
On the mountain,--Farewell.

or

Now I’m off to the butcher’s shop,
There I stay no longer.
If I do, mother will say,
Naughty girl to disobey,
And play with the boys down yonder.
Come in my (Ellen) dear,
While I go out.

And if you like these chants, here are the beginnings of a few more:--

Oxford boys are very nice boys,
Cambridge boys are better--

and

Handy-Pandy, sugar-de-candy,
French almond rock--

and

Hoky Poky, penny a lump,
The more you eat, the more you jump--

and

There was an old lady of Botany Bay:
What have you got to sell today--

and (an old one)

All in together--all sorts of (or _frosty_) weather--
When the wind blows we all go together--

and (a very old one)

Here we come gathering nuts in May (they now call it: _and_ May)
On a cold and frosty morning--

and (quite a new one)

Soldier, Soldier, you may be
Just come home from Germany--

and

A house to let, enquire within,
And please to call my Nellie in--

and

Hot boiled beans and melted butter:
Ladies and gentlemen, come to supper--

and

Gladys, Gladys, come out tonight,
The moon is shining bright--

and

O tonight is Saturday night,
Tomorrow will be Sunday--

and (a very old one)

Sally, Sally Water--sprinkle in the pan:
Fie, Sally--cry, Sally--for a young man--

and that’s really interesting, because the children don’t understand the meaning of this song any more, and so they have invented a new one to take its place, like this:

Little Sally Sanders, sitting on the sand,
Weeping and crying for a young man,
Rise Sally, rise so sweet--

I forget the rest; but you can see how they have twisted it about to make sense--

and

You naughty flea,
You bit my knee--

and

Come in my garden,
And give me your hand--

and

Slow skip, what you like,
A dolly or a pepper--

and (a very naughty one)

Mabel, Mabel,
Lay the table--

and

Mother made a seedy cake,
Gave us all the belly ache--

and

I know a doctor, he knows me,
What do you think he brought for tea--

and

Red, white and blue:
I don’t speak to you--

and

O dear me, mother caught a flea,
Put it in the tea-pot and made a cup of tea--

and

This house to let, no rent to pay,
Knock at the door and run away--

and

Dolly dear, Dolly dear,
Your sweetheart is dead--

and

Evie, Ivy, over,
The kettle is boiling over--

and

Up in the North, a long way off,
The donkey’s got the whooping-cough--

and

Turn your back, you saucy cat,
And say no more to me--

and

Send a letter, send a letter,
Be content in the weather--

and

Crossing the waters one by one,
Crossing the waters two by two--

and

Four little chickens all in white,
Saw some bread and began a fight--

and (skipping and shuttlecock)

Old mother Mason--broke a basin:
What did it cost her? One penny, tuppence, etc.

and

Stockings red and garters blue,
Shoes laced up with silver--

and

Penny on the water, tuppence on the sea,
Threepence on the railway--out goes she--

and

Down by the river where the green grass grows,
There little Sally was washing her clothes--

and

Here comes a little bird through the window,
Here comes a little bird through the door--

and

Willie, Willie, I am waiting, I can’t wait no longer for you,
Three times the whistle blows, are you coming yes or no?--

and (skipping)

Little Mary Anne who lives up stairs,
With high legged boots and a feather in her hat--
That’s the way she meets her chap--

and

Take a little bird and hop in the corner,
Take a little bird and hop away--

and

Ma she said that this won’t do,
To play with the boys at half-past two--

and

On the carpet she shall kneel,
Stand up-right upon your heel--

and

Ching Chang Chinaman had a penny doll--
Washed it, scrubbed it, called it pretty poll.

If you really like these songs, I can tell you the names of one or two more, such as I CAN DO THE TANGO and I’LL TELL MOTHER, MARY ANNE, and MOTHER, MOTHER, FETCH ME HOME and FATHER GIVE (that means _gave_) ME A HA’PENNY and POLLY PUT THE KETTLE ON and JUMBO HAD A BABY and LEAVE THE ROPE and COME ON, AMY and SOME ONE’S UNDER THE BED and PLEASE WILL YOU LEND THE KEY and CINDARELLA-UMBERELLA and THE HOUSE IS EMPTY AND NOBODY IN and HABERDASHER ISHER ASHER OM POM TOSH and R. WHITE’S GINGER-BEER GOES OFF POP and MADEMOISELLE WENT TO THE WELL (which is interesting because they have forgotten what “mademoiselle” means and now call it ADAM AND ELL) and MY SON JOHN WENT TO BED WITH HIS STOCKINGS ON and MY MOTHER SAID THAT I WAS BORN and POOR JENNIE IS A-WEEPING and LONDON BRIDGE IS BROKEN DOWN (two well-known old ones) and WILLIE HAD A LETTER FOR TO GO ON BOARD A SHIP and OATS AND BEANS AND BARLEY GROW and NOW WE’RE ON THE BATTLEFIELD and MY FATHER HAD AN OLD SHOE and I WENT DOWN PICCADILLY.

You can get as many of these songs out of the girls as you like, if you care to come round and ask for them; you’ll find the girls far less shy about their games than the boys are. And you’ll also notice that they’re just as good at inventing sports--the boys show up best in the duty-games, and the girls in their songs. But there’s this difference. You’ll not find much talk in these songs about sunshine and flowers and things like that--except in the older ones which I think were used by girls and boys together, and perhaps even by grown-ups. The girls don’t discover poetic things like “Swimming in Blue Water” or “Dead Man’s Dark Scenery”; they’re matter-of-fact; they sing about clothes and food and money. That’s what makes Aunt Eliza say that women have more common sense than men....

FOOTNOTES:

[G] Not all of them are sung to games.

[H] There is an improper version of this, and of several others.

[I] “has I was goning to strrber far sing butter u cup and dassies I bet a mide take a there forder In the ises were belw but I gend a hir she gose on to strrber far rif rif tola len lile rif rif tale led lile.”

[J] Sadlers’ Wells.

Then the smaller girls and boys have a number of games together: MOTHERS AND FATHERS, for instance, and TEACHERS, and SCHOOLS, and SOLDIERS, and NURSES, and HOSPITALS, and CARTS AND HORSES, and SHOPS, and CONVICTS AND WARDERS, and RAILWAY STATIONS, and games of that kind; and OLD DADDY WITCHES (also called POLLY WITCH or GRANNY WITCH) and SLEIGHS and I BOUGHT A DONKEY and I BOUGHT A PENNY DOLL and FIRE ENGINES and FROGS and WAR and CAT AND MOUSE and CAT AND DOG and HERE WE GO ROUND THE MULBERRY BUSH and A.B.C.D.F.G.--WHAT HAVE I LEFT OUT?--

“one silly kid says E., and then all the others says you’re _it_!” namely “he” (E.)--

and JACK HORNER and OLD AUNT SALLY and TIP-TOP IS A SWEETS STORE and TOM TIDDLER. You know TOM TIDDLER, of course:

“I’m on old Tom Tiddler’s ground,
Picking up gold and silver--”?

There is also another game of this kind where they sort themselves into two parties called ORANGES AND LEMONS to the song of

Oranges and Lemons
Bells of Saint Clement’s--

Everybody knows that! In fact, children are not particular what they play at--

“I Can Play at Whipping top also i Play Hoopla. And i Play at Darts. And have a game at horses. And i Play at hide and seek and i play with Cherry stones. And i Play at skiping rope and Jumping over the rope. And i like a game of Boxing and i like a game of foot Ball and i like a game of Cricket. And i like a game of rounders and i Play a Game of Blow Cards and i play Pigy Backs and i play at Going up on your hands against the wall. i Play at racing. i Play Drawfs i Play with my hoop and Stick i Play at Soldiers....”

And other children’s sports are MARY, MARY and WEEK DAYS (a ball-game played by eight of them) and another one called SHEEP, SHEEP COME HOME, where one line of children represents the sheep, and another line the wolves; and behind the wolves stands the sheeps’ mother--many of these games are “mother-games”--who calls the sheep; but as they run to her they are caught by the wolves. It goes like this:

“Sheep Sheep come home,
Afraid. What off. The Wolfs.
Wolfs gone to Devenshire
Wont be home for seven year
Sheep Sheep come home--”

and DAN, DAN THREAD YOU NEEDLE and WILL YOU GIVE US BREAD AND WINE and

GRANDMOTHER, GRANDMOTHER GRAY,
May I go out to play?
I won’t go near the water
To drive the ducks away--

and

MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?
No, it’s raining.
No, it ain’t.
Oh, all right then.
Mother, I can’t get over the water.
Well, swim.
Can’t.
Ride on a duck’s back--
Quack! Quack!
Where have you been?
To Grandma’s.
What did she give you?
Slice of bread as big as my head,
Lump of cheese as big as my knees,
Glass of wine as big as my eyne,
And a rusty farthing to go home with.
Where’s my share?
Up in the air.
How shall I get it?
Stand on a broken chair.
Supposing I fall?
Serve you right,
For getting drunk on a Saturday night

(the mother runs after the children and the first one caught takes her place)--

and TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR (ring-game) and MATCH and RING-A-RING O’ ROSES and CHERRY-OGS (or CHERRY-BOBS) and CHERRY-PIES.

That reminds me that the last two must not be mixed up with CHERRY-BOB ARCH, a gambling game for bigger lads, quite simple but rather risky, played with cherry-stones and the lid of an old wooden box in which spaces and numbers have been marked out. You throw and--well, you must ask some of the boys higher up the street....

Now small children don’t invent games (it’s the older ones who do that) and so they carry on a good few which used to be played long ago and which the others don’t care for any more. That accounts for the queer sports you see among the kids. One of them is KING OF THE BARBARY, where one party captures a “castle” made of the other children holding their hands together. Another is GREEN MAN RISE-O, a very old game; it goes like this:--

“A boy has to get don and put some gass over him and run out and call out geren man rays and he got to fine [find] you--”

Perhaps this is clearer:--

“The way we play the game of greenman one of us lay down and cover his self with grass and the others run out and hide then they say greenman greenman rise up then he gets up and trys to catch them and the last one thats cort goes it--”

For GREEN MAN RISE-O you have to go to the park, nowadays; but if you can’t go to the park, and want to play it in the street, this is how you do:--

“A boy as got to lay down and all the others have to put thier coats on him and then they have to say green man rise up and if he see a boy he as got to say one, two, three, and the last one as to go it--”

--in fact, it becomes like DEAD MAN’S RISE, for lack of grass.

In COCK ROBIN IS DEAD all the children who are playing have to arm themselves with shields (for which they use saucepan-lids) and with bows and arrows; and some of the bows are worth looking at--made of string, they are, and half a barrel-hoop or a whalebone out of their big sister’s stays--if she wears any. Another of these sports is an old witch-game called TO BECKLES TO BECKLES (?Beccles in Suffolk). It is played like this:

“The children form a ring, and two in the middle. One is a witch and the other is a girl. The children dance round once. Then the girl in the ring says, “To Beckles to Beckles to get some wood.” Old witch says: “What for.” Girl: “To boil the pot.” Witch: “What for.” Girl: “To cook the fowl.” Witch: “Where did you get it?” Girl: “From your yard.” At this a race ensues, until the girl is caught by the witch.”

GROTTOES--May sport--are built heart-shaped or square or round, with an edge of grass (if you can get it) filled up with picture-cards and oyster-shells and old scent bottles or anything else that looks pretty. It’s just a dodge for mumping halfpennies; and not a bad one, either. They come up to you and say “Remember the grotto”--meaning Pay up. Speaking for myself, I generally forget the grotto--meaning Go to blazes. But some people pay up, and I once saw Mr. Perkins give them sixpence! He was a bit all right, that evening--must have been....

By far the best children’s games are those played with mud. Of mud you make PIES, and BRIDGES, and STICKING-BRICKS (against a wall), and MUD-CARTS (played with a tin-can), and WELLS, and TUNNELS, and FLOWER-POTS, and CASTLES--in fact, anything you please. There’s nothing like mud, when all is said and done, and it’s a perfect shame there isn’t more mud about, nowadays; or sand, at least. You should see them go for it, when the streets are up. Because the park is too far away for most of them. And then, the fact of the matter is, our boys don’t much like playing in the park, anyhow; and the few who care about it aren’t allowed to go, because their mothers say “You’ve got no clothes.” They prefer the streets; and that’s the truth, though you wouldn’t believe it. I can’t stop to tell you why. For one thing, the keeper is always coming up in the park and interfering; next, they can’t find kerbs and paving-stones there; next, it makes them wild to see other boys with bats and things, when they have none....

Some of these games used to come in at fixed seasons, as TOPS and MARBLES and PICTURES and BUTTONS still do; they came regularly, like the ice-cream jack or the lavender-boy or the rate-collector or the measles or the hoky-poky man or the carol-singers. But things are changing. SKIPPING used to begin on Good Friday, and now they skip half the year round; HOOPS used to come in at Christmas sharp, and here they are already. Danged if I know the reason why. But there it is. GROTTOES ought to be played on St. James’ day, and I’ve seen them in mid-winter. The same with these MUD-PIES. You would think they belonged naturally to the wet season. Not a bit of it! Not nowadays, at all events. If their clay is too dry in summer, they manage to make it moist again, even without waiting for the rain. Unseasonable, I call it....

What I said about paving-stones reminds me of MARBLES. We used to play them in the winter, on the pavement. But marlies are going down in the world, that’s certain. It’s a good while since I played, but I still remember the names of a few kinds--Toms, and Alleys, and Glarnies, and Miggies; and Forty-eighter and Twenty-fourer and Twelver and Sixer and Fourer and Three-er. You hardly ever hear of a Forty-eighter nowadays. The smaller stone marbles were called Tich; those you got out of lemonade bottles were Glass-eye; they also had names, which I’ve forgotten, according to the different coloured marks. We used to play at NOCKS (that is, KNUCKS: because your knuckles had to touch the ground), and MARBLE-BOARD, and SKITTLES, and GLASGOW, and THREE HOLES, and NIXY’S IN THE HOLE: I TAKE, and GUTTER MARBLES, and ROW MARBLES, and UP THE ALLEY, and SPICK AND SPAN, and DOB ’EM, and TIP, and FOUR HOLES, and NEAREST THE WALL, and PICKING THE PLUMS, and GOING UP, and BOWLING IN THE HOLE and HIT IT LEAVE IT and HIT IT HAVE IT and THROWINGS OUT and STAYS and HITS AND SPANS and FIVE TEN and PICKING NUMBERS and BAGATELLE and IN THE RING and PITCHING and FOLLOW ON and KILLING and PORKY and THROW THE FARTHEST and SOME OR NONE and BRIDGE-BOARD. BRIDGE-BOARD was played with a diagram looking like a row of railway arches; and I might explain the game if I could draw diagrams, which I can’t. In BOUNCE EYE each player gave a certain number of marbles which were pooled in a ring. Then one of them held a marble to his eye and dropped it among them; if any others were knocked out of the ring, he kept them; if none, his own marble went into the pool. There used also to be games that you played with marbles in a flat iron ring--the rings cost 2d. if you bought them, but you generally got them off the barges for nothing--games like RINGUMS and CHIPPING OUT OF THE RING.

But, as I was saying, marbles are not played as they used to be. The police are getting more interfering every day; they tell the boys to move on and not block up the pavement, and that interrupts them in the middle of a game and makes them half wild; and if you don’t clear off at once, they kick your marbles into the gutter where they get lost down a drain, and that makes you altogether mad. Aunt Eliza explains things by saying that marble-games wear out boys’ clothes at the knees and that mothers are growing to be “more careful in such matters.” More fussy, I call it. And then she says--and I say what she says simply can’t be believed, though it would prove what _I_ said--she says--and I say she says these things not because she knows them but just because she believes them, or believes she believes them, or believes she ought to believe them, like some people do; or perhaps not even that; because how is she to _know_ them: that’s what I want to know?--she says that marbles--and I say it’s the worst of Aunt Eliza that when she says a thing you never know exactly where you are; and, upon my word, I don’t believe she knows either; nor does anybody else, for that matter; and, what’s more, nobody really cares; and it wouldn’t much matter if they did, which is just as well--she says that marbles--and I say it all comes from wasting her time running all over the place in a feather hat and silk garters, ever since she came in for that little bit and left off trying to be schoolmistress, and messing about the way she has done with children’s homes and a lot of old cranks, instead of doing some honest work at home--she says that marbles, and not only marbles but HOOPS, used to be played by the big boys at the public schools.

Hoops: that’s what she says. And I say: hoops be blowed. With all respect to Aunt Eliza, I might have swallowed marbles, but I can’t swallow hoops; not on this side of the year after next. I know this, at least, that if a big lad were seen playing, or ever had been seen playing, with a hoop, down our way, except, perhaps, an iron one--why, his own parents wouldn’t know him again, when he got home, if he ever did, which I rather doubt; and that’s all there is to it. His father would ask whether some poor loony had been trying to box with a traction-engine going at full steam, and his mother would want to know what on earth made somebody put a lot of something through the sausage-machine without sifting out all those buttons first. But that’s neither here nor there, except in so far as it shows what Aunt Eliza’s explanations are worth. Mr. Perkins, of Framlingham Brothers (a good old firm--and a nice place he’s got, too)--he’s an understandable kind of gentleman and he gets talking about things after his second pint of Burton and he says, speaking of marbles, that he’s noticed the same thing as I have. And when I asked him _why_ marbles are going out of fashion, he says:

“Marbles are going out of fashion”, he says, “because they’re getting unpopular. That’s why. And I happen to know this”, says he, “because our little Percy he tells me that shopmen don’t stock them the way they did because they know that boys don’t ask for them the way they did and boys don’t ask for them the way they did because they know they couldn’t get them the way they did because shopmen don’t stock them the way they did. Which proves what I said. Trust me”, says he, “when things begin to lose their popularity, they are sure to become unfashionable sooner or later, whether it be games, or clothes, or drinks, _or_ religions. For instance”, says he, “take Nonconformity”. But I wasn’t taking Nonconformity just then, and when I tried to keep him to the point, and asked _why_ marlies, and just marlies, were getting unpopular, he scratches his chin which hadn’t been shaved for the inside of a week, and has another go at his tankard, and puts it down with a bit of a bang, emphatic-like--a sure sign, with Mr. Perkins--and then he looks at me and says:

“Marbles are getting unpopular”, says he, “because they’re going out of fashion. That’s what’s the matter with marbles and with a good many other things as well. Take Nonconformity”, and when I told him I was only taking bitter that night, he has another pull at his Burton, and at last he says, casual-fashion:

“Marbles are not stimulating enough for modern life. It’s the same with religions, _don’t you see_? Now take Nonconformity”--and God’s truth! I had to take Nonconformity for the better part of an hour, after all.

But Mr. Perkins hit the nail on the head, all the same. For I feel sure that boys need more excitement than they did. Or perhaps I ought to say they want it. That’s it: they just want it. And thinking it over, I believe the cinematograph is to blame: it makes them want more excitement, and then it gives it them; and then it makes them want still more, and then it gives them still more; quite restless, in fact, it makes them, and I shouldn’t be surprised if sooner or later it weren’t responsible for a new kind of boy altogether. And that would mean the end of a number of these old games. Because nowadays the bigger lads, those who used to do most of the inventing--they prefer to go to picture-shows whenever they get a chance, instead of larking about the streets as they used to do. (They get some games out of the cinematograph, by the way, such as COWBOYS--INDIANS, which has lately been re-christened GERMANS--ENGLISH). So the playing-age is growing to be younger and younger, and these small boys are not so good at discovering fresh sports; it’s quite true they do make up new ones every day, but I think, on the whole, they forget more than they ought to remember; and this is the reason, if you really want to know, why I’m making up this catalogue: to see whether the next lot of children knows anything about these sports, or even their names.

The “organized games” they make them play in the parks nowadays--they work in the same direction; so does the regular county council schooling; so does the scout movement. The fact is, boys are not left to themselves the way they used to be; everybody goes fussing about and telling them to do this and that, when they want to be doing something else--something of their own; that’s why many games are being forgotten. I don’t know a single boy who really cares for “organized games” the way a man does; even Aunt Eliza can’t bring herself to believe in the system over-much, though she likes to think it keeps the youngsters out of mischief. And it all comes from thinking that boys think the same as we think--which they don’t; or ought to learn to think the same as we think--which they oughtn’t. Because the right kind of boy thinks differently from the right kind of man about games and everything else. And so he ought.

To prove that they still can invent, you need only watch them at their picture-games--played with cigarette-cards and all of them, of course, absolutely new, seeing that these cards were quite unknown up to a few years ago. These picture games have helped to do away with marbles, for two reasons: firstly, the boys are keener on them because they’re more exciting; and secondly, they’re cheaper. You have to pay for marbles. But you don’t pay for fag-pictures: you mump them, see? And here the difference between our games and those of richer people comes in. The more expensive their games are, the more they like to play them; they don’t seem to care about sports that are played with nothing at all--the dearness is what makes everybody want to go in for them; whereas with our boys a game can only be played if it’s cheap, and if it costs nothing at all--why, then it becomes really popular, or fashionable--as the case may be. Now fag-cards are cheap, and no mistake. That’s why you can play so many games with them--EGGS IN THE BUSH, and SNAP, and BANKER (or BANK), and NEAREST THE WALL TAKES, and NEAREST THE WALL SPINS UP, and SEVENS (quite a new kind), and SCALING UP THE RING, and SCALING UP THE LINE, and UNDER THE HAT, and GETTING IN THE RING (that’s a paving-flag, and the game is also called IN THE SQUARE), and OVERLAPPINGS, and IN THE RING FARTHEST, and POKE IN THE HOLE, and DROP THEM (or DROPS), and SKATE THEM, and PICTURE OR BLANK, and WALLIE (or UP THE WALL), and PITCHING IN THE BLOCK (or PITCHER), and PITCHING UNDER, and SLAP-DAP, and SCRAPINGS, and TIPPING IN THE HOLE, and BLOWINGS (also called BLOWS or BLOWUMS: you need an outside window-sill for this), and TOUCH-CARD, and GETTING ON, and INNERS AND OUTERS, and THUMBS, and SHOWS-UP, and KNOCK ’EM DOWN, and DICINGS, and WATERFALLS (or SNOWFALLS) and SPANS (or SPANNERS)--there’s thirty of them, anyhow.

There’s this to be said for picture-games: they make the boys uncommonly nimble with their hands and fingers, and this must help them later on, if they go in for certain trades like watch-making. In fact, they require real skill; as I found out the other day when they asked me to play BANKER (just for a lark, they said) and got five coppers out of me in about half as many minutes. No, I’ve nothing against picture-games except that their names are not as good as those of the duty sports and that they don’t give the youngsters any chance of running about and using their legs. And also this: they’re really horrible inducements to gambling--especially BANKER. Now I don’t like even talking about gambling, because it’s forbidden by law, and everybody knows it. And yet, only yesterday I noticed a lot of them at it; evidently at it. I could see they were up to mischief, by the way they cleared. Dam funny it was--how they just melted into nothing, before I could get a proper sight of them. Not our boys, I’m glad to say.

They’re so keen on these picture-games that you can see them playing at half-past six in the morning and after nine at night; and in the rain, too; and when they have no fag-pictures they try to play the same games with bus tickets and then, if you’re not very careful, you can hear some shocking bad swear-words which they pick up I can’t think where, because the bus tickets bend too easily and won’t fly as they should.

And that reminds me of some other games of the smaller children--those played with five stones (boys) or gobs and bonsers (girls). Gobs (cobs) are shaped like dice, or ought to be; and a bonser or bonk or buck or bonster is a large marble that bounces from the ground (bouncer), about the size of a forty-eighter. You can buy four gobs and a bonk for a half-penny; you can also make them yourself--the gobs or stones, I mean--out of bits of porcellain and pebbles and winkle-shells; but the bought ones are the best, because, for one reason, you have to pay for them.

With these things you play BUCK AND FOUR of different kinds, such as TELLINGS and SISTERS and STAND UP JACK. For BASKETS you need a diagram on the pavement, which I can’t draw. Other games of this sort are ALLEY GOBS and CHANGES and PICKSES and STANDSES--

“In standses aim the marble up then as the marble is coming down stand one of the stones up till you stand all the four up then you drop them again--”

and SHUFFLES and FULL-STOP AND COMMA and FLY DOBS and BABES IN THE WELL and ONE STAND UP ONES’ES--

“if one gob stands up when thrown out, the process of ones’es must be taken. After this you must get two to stand up [on their sides, of course], then three and so in the right order”--

and OVER THE WALL ONE TWO THREE and SPANS and LONDON BRIDGE--

“the bonk is thrown up and while it is descending the two in the middle are caught up, but the bonk must be caught with both stones in the middle then the two stones outside are caught up making a total of three in the hand” (not very clear, is it?)--

and BABES IN BED and PIGEON-HOLE and CROW’S NEST and LAMP-POST--

“build up four stones, throw up the bonk so that it knocks down one of them; and so on till only one stone is left. Then throw up the bonk and catch it in your hand together with the four stones that are on the ground; if you miss one, you’re out”--

and TWOS AND THREES and FOURS and FIVERS and FIVES SIX TIMES and SAVING BABY’S LIFE--

“The way to play Saving Babies life is like this. First of all you pick out a stone which will be the bonk, then lay the remaining four on the left hand, and then by hitting the hand which holds the stones one of them flies into the air, then when it comes down the player must catch it or else he is out. When all the stones have been caught in this way they are laid on the hand in two’s, then in three’s, and when that is done all the four are caught, but this time the bonk must be picked up while the others are coming down.”

It takes some doing, this game; and it isn’t worth doing when you can do it.

Now proper boys won’t touch a marble that bounces from the ground--I can’t tell you why, but there it is; so they generally use a fifth stone instead of a bonk, as in this last game, which is the boys’ way of “Saving Baby’s Life”. But most of them don’t care about these things anyhow, and I don’t either; rotten games, I call them, fit for silly little girls and only interesting because they’re a sort of half-way (the old FIVE-STONES, for instance, is played both with common stones and with gobs) between marbles which you can’t manufacture at any price and real stones which you just pick up anywhere.

Talking of real stones, there’s no doubt whatever that games played with them are the oldest in the world, together with the mud-larks--excepting perhaps those that are not played with _things_ at all, like hide-and-seek and some of the old “he” games. And it’s just wonderful what you can do with stones. But they are dying out, all the same; because the worst of it is, there are not half enough stones about, nowadays; not half enough. You can play DUMPING (or DUMPLING) with stones, and BUNG (also called GO-GULLEY) and NIP (also called TAP or LEG-ALONG--where you hit each others’ stones, each hit counting ten) and DUCK; and you can tell from these names how old the games are. Stones for LEG-ALONG--stones of the right kind, of proper shape and weight, flat on both sides and fitting nicely into the hand, are hard to come by and carefully kept. DUCK (or DUCK ON) goes like this:

“About eight or nine can play; you make a hole in the ground and Duck puts his stone before it, then the Others come up close and have to knock his one into the hole with theirs; if they miss they must pick up there stones and run back to the Curb before he can catch his One; if he catch him, that man is Duck instead.”

Other stone-games are FRENCH PACKET and SHUFFING THE MONEY and FIVE-TEN and HESLING and TWO AND THREE HOLES and KNOCKING THREE’S and PENNY-TUPPENCE and COCK-SHIES and STONE CHASE and THROWINGS OUT and RINGING THE STONE and PUDDING.

Have you ever played DUCKING MUMMY? Probably not. But it’s a good old stone-game for small boys. Two of them take a stone each, and with these stones they aim at a third stone. The third stone--that’s Mummy. If one of them hits Mummy, he keeps on throwing till he misses; then the other has a turn at it; and so on. In the end they are supposed to count up who has made most hits--the loser paying a peppermint. Of course they try to cheat each other, and so it always ends in a free fight: that’s the best part of the whole game. Nobody ever gets the peppermint.

But they sometimes gets a black eye....

And that’s about all the games I can think of, just now.

Wait a bit. There are the chalk-games. These are what you see marked out in white or coloured chalk on the pavement or asphalt--summer games, of course, and pretty common everywhere. Ordinary HOP-SCOTCH, for instance, and LONG HOP-SCOTCH, and FRENCH HOP-SCOTCH, and TIDDLEDEWINK, and PUDDING AND BEEF (or STONE HOP-SCOTCH, where you have to keep a stone balanced on your head or open hand as you hop through). Then there’s WRIGGLY-WORM (also called WHIRLY-WHIRLY, or WIGGLY-WOGGLY, or SNAIL), and SQUARES, and NUMBERS, and DOT-BOXES (or DOTS) and ALL OVER THE WORLD, and STEPPING-STONES, and ZIG-ZAG. They play NOUGHTS AND CROSSES out of doors (OXEN-CROSSES, they call it; which shows how they twist the names about); other chalk-games are MAPS, and LONDON, and BATTLEMENTS, and SNAKES, and BABY, and BILL BAILY.

They also play BODY-BUILDING of different kinds, and one of the most complicated of these chalk-games is now called GERMANS-ENGLISH. It begins with a design shaped rather like a coffin with fields of squares in the middle and a field of them running along each side, and a field for “lost” at the top and another field at the bottom which I don’t remember the use of, and two starting-points at each end of the bottom. Only two boys can play; they throw their nickers by turns into the middle fields, and if they land on a line it counts nothing, but whoever lands in a field can begin building a soldier in the corresponding side-field; first his head; then (for another throw into the right field) his body; then (for another) his legs; then his rifle; then a bullet at the end of his rifle. Once the bullet is there, that soldier stands for good. But while he is still being built, the other boy, if he throws well, can set up another soldier in the corresponding side-field in shorter time, and once that soldier has his bullet--why, he can shoot the other fellow opposite, if he’s not complete, and finish him off for good. So there are all the time soldiers building in the different side-fields on both sides, each growing up as fast as he can, and all shooting each other whenever they get the chance; and the winner is the boy who has most soldiers alive at the end. And you can see from this that it’s a complicated business and shows what youngsters can think out with a bit of chalk (if somebody didn’t think it out for them); but to explain it properly would require at least twenty diagrams to show the game in its different stages, and I can’t draw diagrams--never could; which is a pity.

The small children have a chalk-game all to themselves called POLLY POLLY WHAT’S THE TIME, where they draw a sort of clock on the pavement and cover up parts of it with their jackets or anything else.

The girls have another, BOOTS, SHOES, TIPS, OR NAILS, in which one of them draws a square on the pavement containing room for the four letters b. t. s. or n.; she writes one of them down and then covers it up; the others must guess which letter it is, and they score up how many correct guesses each one has had. Boys sometimes play this, but not often.

And then the well-known CHALK-CHASE. There are different kinds of CHALK-CHASE, such as CONVICTS AND WARDERS (or TRACKING THE CONVICTS) and SCOUTS; but the real old CHALK-CHASE, as played by my friends of the “Char-charcoal-chalk-chase-club”, goes like this:--

“You pick parteis and then they clip for First outing. Each player has a peice of chalk which he has to draw arroes the hounds follow & they must cross out the arroes until the Others are caught then its the Others turn”.

Played it yourself, maybe?

And there! I nearly forgot some of the best of all these sports: the touch games. There’s OFF-GROUND TOUCH and FRENCH TOUCH and TOUCH THE ROAD YOU MUST GO OVER and CROSS TOUCH and HE (called EE; all touch-games are “he” games, and this is the grandfather of the whole family), and ELBOW TOUCH and HELP TOUCH and B--TOUCH and TOUCHING BOOTLEATHER and HOP TOUCH and DOUBLE TOUCH and TOUCH LAST (or HAD YOU LAST) and TOUCHING IRON and TOUCH WOOD AND WHISTLE and NON-STOP TOUCH and STICK-TOUCH, or STICK-HE (touching with sticks) and WATER-HE (played in the baths) and STRING-HE (touch and hold hands: like WIDDY) and TREE-HE (up trees) and SHADOW-HE, which must be played in the sunshine, like this:

“The one who is he has to try and tread on one of the person’s shadders, then he is he.”

FRENCH TOUCH is as good as any of those I can remember just now; it is played like this:

“Fr tutch run after another boy and tutch him any were and the boy you tutched has to keep his hand on the place were you tutched and go ea (“he”) and run after another boy and tutch him any were and he has to keep his hand on the place where he tutched and go ea and run after another boy and tutch him any were and he has to keep his hand on the place were he tutched and go ea and run after another boy and tutch him any were etc.”--

and OFF-GROUND TOUCH like this:

“You are not supposed to let your feet touch the ground, if you do, the one who is out can have you”--

but somebody really ought to make a full list of games of this kind. Aunt Eliza might do it (always fussing about with school-children, she is, and seeing that their clothes are properly patched behind) if she weren’t so fond of explaining things--so fond that I daresay she’ld mix up B--TOUCH with HOOPS and HONEY-POTS, for the sake of fitting it in with some explanation or other. That’s the worst of Aunt Eliza; she’s sometimes right, but you never know when....

And now, come to think of it, I believe I can tell you just one or two more of the games they play down our way. There’s WILL YOU ’LIST (a recruiting game, very popular just now), and HAMMERS ON, and KICKS, and RED ROVER (“Three steps and I’ll be over”), and CARLOW, and FRIED EGGS AND A RASHER, and POSTMAN’S KNOCK, and TEN O’CLOCK POLICE, and SCHOOL-BOYS, and ICKAMY-ICKAMY-CO (“where’s the poor man to go?”), and SHUNTING ENGINES and FOLLOW THE LEADER--

It’s the only really dangerous game we have, FOLLOW THE LEADER. Because of course the bravest boy is chosen as leader, one who crosses the road just in front of some heavy van and then goes and raps at all the doors of the neighbours who rush out in a rage to see what’s the matter; so that by the time the third man has done the same there’s sometimes a smash-up and always a row. A grand old game is DOING EACH OTHERS’ DAGS, as they call it; but its bound to end in trouble of some kind, for dead certain; though the “leader” generally comes off without a scratch, as they do in the army--

and STITCH AWAY TAILOR and BOATS and HOOPLA FOR CHOKLITTS and BUS HORSES and REIN HORSES and SCOUTS and PICKING THE CROW’S NEST and KNOCKING DOWN GINGER and KNOCKING GINGER OUT O’BED (rough; played with door-knockers) and WHIRLIGIG and ROBIN SNATCH (with handkerchiefs) and FLAG RACE and POTTY and FIVE HUNDRED MONKEYS UP (the last two are hide-and-seek) and GUARDING THE STAKE and JUPITER. I’m glad I didn’t forget to remember JUPITER; it’s an old game and goes like this:--

“One has to be Jubiter and every time he hops out he has to say Jubiter and if he catches one he has to be servant and so on until you catch all except one and he has to be Jubiter”--

and SUNDAY-MONDAY and HIDING STEPS and OUTINGS and HOME IT and WHAT’S THE TIME and TAILOR SAID and LAST MAN STANDING (like OFF-GROUND TOUCH) and RELIEVO (like RELEASE, only chalked dens are used) and POSTMAN RELAY and EGG AND SPOON RELAY and INDIAN CLUB RELAY and DAY AND NIGHT and JUMPING THE BROOK and ONE MORE NO MORE and PARVY and STOLEN NECKLACE and OUT OF BOUNDS and GIVE A JOIN (like WIDDY) and DATE-HOGS--

I must tell you about DATE-HOGS. It’s played by small children with date-stones and screws--the stones you find, the screws you pinch or mump; and each boy has a certain number of throws with his date-stones at one of the other chap’s screws standing up on end. Now it’s quite clear that, getting the screws the way they do, they sometimes get big ones, and sometimes little ones, and have to be jolly glad to get any at all; and it’s also clear that, big screws being easier to hit than little ones, the game would be unfair if you always threw from the same distance. Therefore you mustn’t always throw from the same distance. But how are you to settle it fairly? Well, everybody knows that big screws have more turns or twists in them than little screws have. So they measure the throwing-distance by the number of these turns. A small screw, which is hard to hit, has (say) five turns, so you have to stand five paces off; a big screw, which is easier to hit, has (say) ten turns, and so you stand ten paces off; and this makes the chances always even. Shows how artful these kids are--

and FOX AND HOUNDS (HARE AND HOUNDS) and BATTLE OF WATERLOO and LAMP AWAY and STICKJAW and PAPER TRUNCHEONS and POTATOE-SHOOTERS and FUEL FOR THE FIRE and TIME GUESSING and ROUND THE BLOCK and HUMBLE-BUMBLE and GO YOUR WAY and A PIN TO LOOK AT THE POPPY-SHOW--

A poppy-show--that’s a puppet-show, if the boys hadn’t forgotten what a puppet-show was. You need rather a fresh boy for this game, and when you’ve found him, you get hold of a big book--a Bible, if possible, because it has so many pages and looks respectable anyhow, but chiefly on account of the pages--and anywhere between its pages you put a few transfers; just a few. You hold the book in your hand with the back downwards and press the covers together as tightly as ever you can, and come up to your lad and say “A pin to look at the poppy-show.” Then he, with a pin, has to dab down between the closed pages of the book, and if he strikes a place where a transfer happens to be, of course it’s his; otherwise, you keep his pin. You can guess his chances, when there are about three transfers hidden among four hundred pages. If he likes to be a fool, he can get rid of all his pins that way, while you keep your poppy-show for the next fresh boy you come across--