"She, on throne of splendor seated,
Shall be shining to behold,
She shall lodge within a palace,
She shall dress in pearls and gold."
It will thus be seen that the three knights originally represent not
suitors, but envoys. If we remember that marriage, in some simple
countries, is still conducted through intermediaries, whose duty it is
to argue, chaffer, and dispute, before coming to the decision all along
intended, we shall see reason to believe that from a form representing
more or less literally the usages of primitive society have sprung in
the course of time a multitude of confused representations, colored by
later tastes and feelings.
The spirit and substance of the courteous and chivalric English rhyme
cannot be later than the fourteenth century; the identity and primitive
rudeness of the song in Iceland, Scotland (and, we shall presently add,
Virginia), supposes an earlier date; while even then we have to bridge
the gap between these forms and the Italian. We may, therefore, be
tolerably sure that the first diffusion of the game in Europe dates far
back into the Middle Age.
No. 2.
_Three Kings._
This antique rhyme, which comes to us from West Virginia, is a rude and
remarkable variety of the preceding game, but quite unlike any English
version hitherto printed.
We find a singular and apparently connected equivalent in the Färöe
isles. In the form of the dialogue there in use, as in the present
game, the suitor is presented in successively higher characters, as a
thrall, smith, and so on, until he is finally accepted as a prince. The
Italian song has shown us a similar usage. Thus the surf-beaten rocks
of the North Atlantic, with their scanty population of fishermen and
shepherds, whose tongue is a dialect of the ancient Norse speech, are
linked by the golden chain (or network) of tradition with the fertile
vales of the Alleghenies, and the historic lagoons of Venice.
The corrupt ending, too, compared with the Philadelphia version already
cited, and with the Venetian game, is seen to rest on an ancient basis.
The children, having forgotten the happy close, and not understanding
the haggling of the suitors, took the "three kings" for bandits.
* * * * *
On one side of the room a mother with her daughters. On the other three
wooers, who advance.
"Here come three soldiers three by three,
To court your daughter merrily;
Can we have a lodging, can we have a lodging,
Can we have a lodging here to-night?"
"Sleep, my daughter, do not wake--
Here come three soldiers, and they sha'n't take;
They sha'n't have a lodging, they sha'n't have a lodging,
They sha'n't have a lodging here to-night."
"Here come three sailors three by three,
To court your daughter merrily;
Can we have a lodging," etc.
"Sleep, my daughter, do not wake--
Here come three sailors and they sha'n't take;
They sha'n't have a lodging," etc.
"Here come three tinkers three by three,
To court your daughter merrily;
Can we have a lodging," etc.
"Sleep, my daughter, do not wake--
Here come three tinkers and they sha'n't take;
They sha'n't have a lodging," etc.
"Here come three kings, three by three,
To court your daughter merrily;
Can we have a lodging," etc.
"Wake, my daughter, do not sleep--
Here come three kings, and they _shall_ take;
They _shall_ have a lodging, they shall have a lodging,
They shall have a lodging here to-night."
(_To the kings_)--
"Here is my daughter safe and sound,
And in her pocket five hundred pound,
And on her finger a plain gold ring,
And she is fit to walk with the king."
(The daughter goes with the kings; but they are villains in disguise:
they rob her, push her back to her mother, and sing)--
"Here is your daughter _not_ safe and sound,
And in her pocket _not_ five hundred pound,
And on her finger no plain gold ring,
And she's not fit to walk with the king."
(The mother pursues the kings, and tries to catch and beat them).
_Charlestown, W. Va._
No. 3.
_Here Comes a Duke._
This rhyme is only a later development of the same game. The suitor is
now made to address himself directly to his mistress, and the mercenary
character of the previous transaction is replaced by coquetry. Our New
England song loses nothing by comparison with the pretty Scotch.
A company of little girls sit in a row. A little girl from the middle
of the room goes dancing up to the first one in the row, singing,
"Here comes a duke a-roving,
Roving, roving,
Here comes a duke a-roving,
With the ransy, tansy, tea!
With the ransy, tansy, tario!
With the ransy, tansy, tea!
Pretty fair maid, will you come out,
Will you come out, will you come out,
To join us in our dancing?"
Little girl answers,
"No."
Suitor steps backward, singing,
"Naughty girl,[39] she won't come out,
She won't come out, she won't come out,
To join us in our dancing."
Suitor advances as before. The answer now is,
"Yes."
These two now retire, singing together,
"Now we've got the flowers of May,
The flowers of May, the flowers of May,
To join us in our dancing."
They join hands and call out the next one in the row; thus the play
goes on until the last is selected, when they form a ring, dance, and
sing,
"Now we've got the flowers of May,
The flowers of May, the flowers of May,
To join us in our dancing."
_Concord, Mass._
Avulgarized form of the same game is common through the Middle States:
_Boys._ "We are three _ducks_ a-roving, (thrice)
_With a ransom dansom dee._"
_Girls._ "What is your good-will, sir?" etc.
_Boys._ "My good-will is to marry," etc.
_Girls._ "Which one of us will you have, sir?" etc.
_Boys._ "You're all too black and blowzy," etc.
_Girls._ "We are as good as you, sir," etc.
_Boys._ "Then I will take you, miss," etc.
The pretended quarrel between intermediaries has here become a dispute
of the principals.[40]
Finally, in the streets of New York the dialogue is made
unrecognizable--
_The Ring._ "Forty ducks are riding,
_My dilsey dulsey officer_;
Forty ducks are riding,
_My dilsey dulsey day_.
Which of the lot do you like best?"
_Child in Centre._ "You're all too black and ugly--ugly," etc.
_The Ring._ "We're not so black as you are," etc.
The child then selects a partner, when the rest sing,
"Open the gates and let the bride out," etc.;
and the couple pass under lifted hands, circle the ring, and similarly
reenter, to the words,
"Open the gates and let the bride in," etc.
We have thus a curious example of the way in which an apparently
meaningless game, which might be supposed the invention of the _gamins_
of the street, is, in fact, a degenerate form of the ancient poetry,
which was brimful of grace, courtesy, and the joy of existence.
For a purpose presently to be mentioned, we must cite the corresponding
Scotch rhyme, given by Chambers:
A dis, a dis, a green grass,
A dis, a dis, a dis;
Come all ye pretty fair maids,
And dance along with us.
For we are going a-roving,
A-roving in this land;
We'll take this pretty fair maid,
We'll take her by the hand.
Ye shall get a duke, my dear,
And ye shall get a drake;
And ye shall get a young prince,
A young prince for your sake.
And if this young prince chance to die,
Ye shall get another;
The bells will ring, and the birds will sing,
And we'll all clap hands together.
No. 4.
_Tread, Tread the Green Grass._
Tread, tread the green grass,
Dust, dust, dust;
Come all ye pretty fair maids
And walk along with us.
If you be a fair maid,
As I suppose you be,
I'll take you by the lily-white hand
And lead you across the sea.
_Philadelphia._
With this musical call to the dance, it was common, a generation since,
for girls in this town to begin the evening dances on the green,
singing as they marched in couples. The "dust" of the rhyme is a
corruption. Comparing it with the Scotch song previously quoted, we do
not doubt that it represents the Scotch (in other words, old English)
_adist_, the opposite of _ayont_, meaning _this way_, come hither. We
ought probably therefore to read,
Tread, tread the green grass,
Adist, adist, adist.
This song was no mere dance of rustics; the children at least kept up
the usage of the day when a pleasing popular poetry was the heritage of
all ranks. The spirit of the strain carries us back to that "carolling"
of ladies which was, in the time of Chaucer, no less than the gay green
of the meadow or the melody of the birds, an accompaniment of summer.
No. 5.
_I'll Give to You a Paper of Pins._
This pretty and interesting, hitherto imprinted, children's song is
more or less familiar throughout the Middle States. We have heard it
with many variations from persons of all classes and ages. It may often
be listened to in the upper part of the city of New York, as it is sung
(with a mere apology for a melody) by three or four girls, walking with
arms entwined, or crooned by mere infants seated on the casks which, in
the poorer quarters, often encumber the sidewalk.
There are also English and Scotch versions, generally inferior as
regards poetical merit and antiquity of language. The English form,
however, seems to contain the primitive idea, where the wooer appears
as a prince, who by splendid presents overcomes the objections of a
lady. This mercenary character being repugnant to modern taste, the
Scotch rhyme represents the suitor as the Evil One in person; while
in the United States the hero is, in his turn, made to cast off the
avaricious fair, or else the lady to demand only love for love.
The numerous couplets of the American rhyme are completely in the
ballad style. A "paper of pins" is substituted for a "pennorth of
pins." The "easy-chair" is modern, but the verse itself ancient,
combing golden hair being a world-old occupation of beauties. The gown
"trimmed with golden thread," or "set off with a golden crown," refers
to the attire of olden times. The mediæval bride wore a crown on the
head and flowing hair; a costume also mentioned in old ballads as the
usual dress of a demoiselle of rank arrayed for the dance.
"I'll give to you a paper of pins,
And that's the way my love begins;
If you will marry me, me, me,
If you will marry me."
"I don't accept your paper of pins,
If that's the way your love begins;
For I won't marry you, you, you,
For I won't marry you."
"I'll give to you an easy-chair,
To sit in and comb your golden hair.
"I'll give to you a silver spoon,
To feed your babe in the afternoon.
"I'll give to you a dress of green,
To make you look like any queen.[41]
"I'll give to you the key of my heart,
For you to lock and never to part.
"I'll give to you the key of my chest,
For you to have money at your request."
"I _do_ accept the key of your chest,
For me to have money at my request;
And I will marry you, you, you,
And I will marry you."
"Ha, ha, ha, money is all,
And I won't marry you at all;
For I won't marry you, you, you,
For I won't marry you."
This is from a New York child; our next version is from Connecticut:
[Illustration]
"Oh, miss, I'll give you a paper of pins,
If you will tell me how love begins:
If you will marry, marry, marry,
If you will marry me."
"I'll not accept your paper of pins,
And I won't tell you how love begins;
For I won't marry, marry, marry,
For I won't marry you."
"O miss, I'll give you a coach and six,
Every horse as black as pitch.
"O miss, I'll give you a red silk gown,
With gold and laces hanging round.
"O miss, I'll give you a little gold bell,
To ring for the waiter[42] when you are not well.
"O miss, I'll give you the key to my heart,
That we may lock and never part.
"O miss, I'll give you the key to my chest,
That you may have money at your request."
"I will accept the key of your chest,
That I may have money at my request."
"Ah, I see, money is all,
Woman's love is none at all;
And I won't marry, marry, marry,
And I won't marry you."
Finally, we have a variation with a more tender conclusion:
"Will you have a paper of pins?
For that's the way my love begins--
And will you marry me, me, me,
And will you marry me?"
"No, I'll not have a paper of pins,
If that's the way your love begins."
"Will you have a little lap-dog,
Who may follow you abroad?
"Will you have a coach and four,
Footman behind and footman before?
"Will you have a dress of red,
All trimmed round with golden thread?
"Will you have a satin gown,
All set off with a golden crown?
"Will you have the key to my chest,
To draw out gold at your request?
"Will you have the key to my heart,
That we may love and never part?"
"Yes, I will have the key to your heart,
That we may love and never part,
And I will marry you, you, you,
And I will marry you."
The same idea is contained in a song originally Scotch, but which comes
to us (through an Irish medium) from Pennsylvania:
"Will you come to the Highland braes,
_Bonny lassie, Highland lassie_?
Will you come to the Highland braes,
_My bonny Highland lassie_?"
The reply is, "Na, na, it will not dee, bonnie laddie," etc.: when the
wooer gradually increases his offers:
"I will give you a golden comb,
If you will be mine and never roam;"
and finally inquires,
"Will you go to the kirk with me,
There to be my wedded wife?"
which is eagerly accepted:
"_And them's the words away to town_,
And I will get my wedding-gown."
No. 6.
_There She Stands, a Lovely Creature._
This pretty song has been recited to us by informants of the most
cultivated class, and, on the other hand, we have seen it played as a
round by the very "Arabs of the street," in words identically the same.
It is an old English song, which has been fitted for a ring-game by the
composition of an additional verse, to allow the selection of a partner.
[Illustration]
"There she stands, a lovely creature,
Who she is, I do not know;
I have caught her for her beauty,--
Let her answer, yes or no.
"Madam, I have gold and silver,
Lady, I have houses and lands,
Lady, I have ships on the ocean,
All I have is at thy command."
"What care I for your gold and silver,
What care I for your houses and lands,
What care I for your ships on the ocean--
_All I want is a nice young man._"
_New York._
No. 7.
_Green Grow the Rushes, O!_
In former times, the amusements of young people at their winter-evening
gatherings consisted almost entirely of "playing games." On such
occasions the following rhyme was used (in eastern Massachusetts) about
the beginning of the century, to select partners for the ring. Chairs
were placed in a circle, and the players of one sex seated, so as to
leave alternate vacant places, for which they chose occupants, singing--
"Green grow the rushes, O!
Green grow the rushes, O!
He who will my true love be,
Come and sit by the side of me."
Those waiting to be selected sang,
"Pick and choose, but choose not me,
Choose the fairest you can see."
This dialogue was repeated for each player until all were taken in,
which, if the party was numerous, of necessity took a long time.
No. 8.
_The Widow with Daughters to Marry._
A child, representing a mother, is followed by a file of daughters,
each grasping the frock of the girl in front.
There comes a poor widow from Barbary-land,[43]
With all her children in her hand;
One can brew, and one can bake,
And one can make a wedding-cake;
Pray take one,
Pray take two,
Pray take one that pleases you.[44]
_Philadelphia._
The "poor widow" is also represented as having only one daughter left.
Sister, O Phoebe, how happy we be,
As we go under the juniper-tree!
We'll put on our night-caps to keep our heads warm,
And two or three kisses will do us no harm--
Will do us no harm, Io!
I am a poor widow, a-marching around,
And all of my daughters are married but one;
So rise up my daughter, and kiss whom you please,
And kiss whom you please, Io!
_Philadelphia._
Another old version of this round:
I am a rich widow, I live all alone,
I have but one daughter, and she is my own;
Go, daughter, go choose, go choose your one,
Go choose a good one, or else choose you none.
_New York._
Finally, we have the modern corruption of the street, which, however,
shows us the manner of playing:
A child stands in the ring, as the mother. The daughter reclines as if
asleep, her head resting on her hands, till the words, _rise up_.
Here _stands_ a poor widow a-walking around,
Io! Io! Io!
So put on the night-cap to keep her head warm,
To keep her head warm, Io!
So rise up my daughter, and kiss whom you please,
And kiss whom you please, Io!
_New York._
The widow with daughters to marry is a European celebrity. The titles
_rich_ and _poor_, moreover, in this and the last number, are not
meaningless, but show that two independent characters have been united
in one. In the original European game, which we have not encountered in
an English form, there is both a _rich_ and a _poor_ mother; the latter
begs away, one by one, the daughters of the former, until she has
secured all. The present round and the preceding are only reductions,
or adaptations to the dance, of this more ancient and dramatic game.
Once more, the game of the rich and poor mothers, though centuries old,
and existing in many European tongues, is itself but an outgrowth of a
still more ancient childish drama, which has given birth to innumerable
sports, dances, and songs, exhibiting very different external
characteristics all over Europe, but of which primitive and complete
versions at present seem to exist only in America.[45]
No. 9.
_Philander's March._
This rhyme has been familiar throughout the New England States. Some of
our older readers will remember how the doors of all the apartments of
an old-fashioned mansion, with its great chimney in the centre, would
be thrown open at an evening party, and the children march through the
house, and up and down the staircase, singing the familiar air--
Come, Philanders,[46] let's be a-marching,
Every one choose from his heartstrings;[47]
Choose your true love now or never,
And be sure you choose no other.
O, my dear----, how I do love you!
Nothing on earth do I prize above you!
With a kiss now let me greet you,
And I will never, never leave you.
_Plymouth, Mass._ (about 1800).
Another version:
Come, Philander, let us be a-marching,
From the ranks there's no deserting,
Choose your own, your own true lover,
See that you don't choose any other;
Now farewell, dear love, farewell,
We're all a-marching, so farewell.
_Deerfield, Mass._
Why, of all the names of the Damon and Sylvia class, _Philander_,[48]
which, according to derivation, should mean fondness for the male
sex, came to be a proverbial expression for an amorous person, and
contributed to the English language a verb (to philander) we cannot
say. Children's intelligence made wild work of the word. A New England
variation was, "Come, _Lysanders_;" and in Pennsylvania, on the
Maryland border, the first line has been ingeniously distorted into
"_Cumberland city-town-boys_" marching! Cumberland being a town in the
latter state.
No. 10.
_Marriage._
(1.) By this name was known in Massachusetts, at the beginning of the
century, an elaborate dance (for such, though practised in a Puritan
community, it really was) which has a very decided local flavor.