Chapter XIV: Part 14

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

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

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

--Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

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

--Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

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

--Dorsetshire (_Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 219).

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

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

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

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

--Dorsetshire (_Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 221-222).

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

[The answer to this is often, "Washing doll's clothes," but anything may be mentioned.]

What did she give you?

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

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

--Cornwall (_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 55, 56).

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

--Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

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

--Hurstmonceux, Sussex (Miss Chase).

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

--Northants (Rev. W. D. Sweeting).

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

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

Mother Mop

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

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

See "Jack, Jack, the Bread's a-burning."

Mother, Mother, the Pot Boils over

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This tastes like my Monday.

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

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

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

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

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

Mount the Tin

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

See "New Squat."

Mouse and the Cobbler

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

Go and get your father's shirt.

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

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

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

This is evidently the same game as "Ghost in the Garden" and "Ghost in the Copper," in a decaying stage. There is no _raison d'etre_ for either mouse or cobbler. Probably these words are a corruption of the older "Ghost in the Copper."

Muffin Man

[Music]

--Earls Heaton (H. Hardy).

[Music]

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

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

--Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

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

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

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

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

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

--Burne's _Shropshire Folk-lore_, p. 571.

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

--Holmfirth (H. Hardy).

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

See "Buff with a Stick," "Dinah."

Mulberry Bush

[Music]

--Miss Harrison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--Liphook, Hants (Miss Fowler).

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here we go round the mulberry bush, &c.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Munshets or Munshits

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

See "Cat," "Cudgel," "Kit-cat," "Tip-cat."

Musical Chairs

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

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

Nacks

A game in which pegs of wood play a similar part to the well-known object "Aunt Sally."--Robinson's _Mid Yorkshire Glossary_.

Namers and Guessers

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

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

Whereupon he approaches, and the Namer says--

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

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

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

See "Fool, Fool," "Hecklebirnie."

Neighbour

There is a game called "Neighbour, I torment thee," played in Staffordshire, "with two hands, and two feet, and a bob, and a nod as I do."--Halliwell's _Dictionary_.

Neiveie-nick-nack

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

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

--Mactaggart's _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_.

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

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

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

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

And--

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

Dickinson's _Cumberland Glossary_ describes this as a boyish mode of casting lots. The boy says--

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

Mr. W. H. Patterson (_Antrim and Down Glossary_) gives the rhyme as--

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

Chambers (_Popular Rhymes_, p. 117) gives the rhyme the same as that given by Mr. Patterson. In _Notes and Queries_, 6th Series, vii. 235, a North Yorkshire version is given as--

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

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

See "Handy-dandy."

Nettles

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

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

Nettles grow in an angry bush, &c.

This is the way the gentleman goes, &c.

Nettles grow in an angry bush, &c.

This is the way the tailor goes.

--Halliwell's _Nursery Rhymes_, 227.

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

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

See "Mulberry Bush," "When I was a Young Girl."

New Squat

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

See "Mount the Tin."

Nine Holes

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

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

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

See "Bridgeboard," "Nine Men's Morris."

Nine Men's Morris

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

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

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

"The folds stand empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock--
The Nine Men's Morris is filled up with mud."

--_Midsummer Nights Dream_, act ii. sc. 2.

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

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

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

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

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

The following is the account of this game given by Mr. Douce in the _Illustrations of Shakespeare and of Ancient Manners_, 1807, i. 184:--"This game was sometimes called the _nine mens merrils_ from _merelles_, or _mereaux_, an ancient French word for the jettons, or counters, with which it was played. The other term, _morris_, is probably a corruption suggested by the sort of dance which, in the progress of the game, the counters performed. In the French _merelles_ each party had three counters only, which were to be placed in a line in order to win the game. It appears to have been the _tremerel_ mentioned in an old fabliau. See _Le Grand_, _Fabliaux et Contes_, ii. 208. Dr. Hyde thinks the morris, or merrils, was known during the time that the Normans continued in possession of England, and that the name was afterwards corrupted into _three men's morals_, or _nine men's morals_. If this be true, the conversion of _morrals_ into _morris_, a term so very familiar to the country people, was extremely natural. The Doctor adds, that it was likewise called _nine-penny_ or _nine-pin miracle_, _three-penny morris_, _five-penny morris_, _nine-penny morris_, or _three-pin_, _five-pin_, and _nine-pin morris_, all corruptions of _three-pin, &c, merels_" (Hyde's _Hist. Nederluddi_, p. 202). Nares says the simpler plan here represented (fig. 2), which he had also seen cut on small boards, is more like the game than the one referred to in the variorem notes of Shakespeare.