to be repeated until all the players are wound round the centre or
tallest player, in a tight coil. Then they all sing--
Stir up the dumplings, the pot boils over,
to the second part of the tune in 2-4 time. This is repeated, all
jumping simultaneously to the changed time, until there is a general
scrimmage, with shrieking and laughter, and a break up. The players
should look somewhat like a watch spring. [Illustration] As soon as the
last one is wound up, no matter in what part of the 3-8 time music they
may be, they leave off and begin to jump up and down, and sing to the
2-4 music.--Essex (Miss Dendy).
This game is called "Wind up the Watch" in Wolstanton, North
Staffordshire Potteries, and is played in the same manner. The words are
only, "Wind up the Watch," and are said. When all the players are wound
up they begin to unwind, saying, "Unwind the Watch."--Miss Bush. Called
"Wind up Jack" in Shropshire. It is the closing game of any playtime,
and was played before "breaking-up" at a boys' school at Shrewsbury,
1850-56. The players form a line hand in hand, the tallest at one end,
who stands still; the rest walk round and round him or her, saying,
"Wind up Jack! Wind up Jack!" (or at Ellesmere, "Roll up the
tobacco-box"), till "Jack" is completely imprisoned. They then "jog up
and down," crying, "A bundle o' rags, a bundle o' rags!"--Berrington,
Ellesmere (_Shropshire Folk-lore_, p. 521).
In Scotland the game is known as "Row-chow-Tobacco;" a long chain of
boys hold each other by the hands: they have one standing steadily
at one of the extremities, who is called the _Pin_. Round him the
rest coil like a watch chain round the cylinder, till the act of
winding is completed. A clamorous noise succeeds, in which the cry
Row-chow-Tobacco prevails; after giving and receiving the
_fraternal hug_, they disperse, and afterwards renew the process.
In West of Scotland, it is Rowity-chow-o'-Tobacco, pronounced,
_rowity-chowity-bacco_, and as the first syllable of each word is
shouted, another hug or squeeze is given. The game is not so common as
formerly. The same game is played in West Cornwall by Sunday-school
children at their out-of-door treats, and is called "Roll Tobacco."
It is known as "The Old Oak Tree" in Lincoln, Kelsey, and Winterton, and
is played in the same manner. When coiling round, the children sing--
Round and round the old oak tree:
I love the girls and the girls love me.
When they have twisted into a closely-packed crowd they dance up and
down, tumbling on each other, crying--
A bottle of rags, a bottle of rags.
In the Anderby and Nottinghamshire version of the game the children
often sing--
The old oak tree grows thicker and thicker every Monday morning.
--Miss M. Peacock.
In Mid-Cornwall, in the second week in June, at St. Roche, and in one or
two adjacent parishes, a curious dance is performed at the annual
"feasts." It enjoys the rather undignified name of "Snails Creep," but
would be more properly called the "Serpent's Coil." The following is
scarcely a perfect description of it:--"The young people being all
assembled in a large meadow, the village band strikes up a simple but
lively air and marches forward, followed by the whole assemblage,
leading hand-in-hand (or more closely linked in case of engaged
couples), the whole keeping time to the tune with a lively step. The
band, or head of the serpent, keeps marching in an ever-narrowing
circle, whilst its train of dancing followers becomes coiled round it in
circle after circle. It is now that the most interesting part of the
dance commences, for the band, taking a sharp turn about, begins to
retrace the circle, still followed as before, and a number of young men,
with long leafy branches in their hands as standards, direct this
counter movement with almost military precision."--W. C. Wade (_Western
Antiquary_, April 1881).
From this description of the "Snail Creep," it is not difficult to
arrive at an origin for the game. It has evidently arisen from a custom
of performing some religious observance, such as encircling sacred trees
or stones, accompanied by song and dance. "On May Day, in Ireland, all
the young men and maidens hold hands and dance in a circle round a tree
hung with ribbons and garlands, or round a bonfire, moving in curves
from right to left, as if imitating the windings of a serpent."--Wilde
(_Ancient Cures, Charms, and Usages of Ireland_, 106).
It is easy to conjecture how the idea of "winding up a watch," or
"rolling tobacco," would come in, and be thought the origin of the game
from the similarity of action; but it is, I think, evident that this is
not the case, from the words "a bundle o' rags," the mention of trees,
and the "jogging" up and down, to say nothing of the existence of
customs in Ireland and Wales similar to that of "Snail Creep." It is
noticeable, too, that some of these games should be connected with
trees, and that, in the "Snail Creep" dance the young men should carry
branches of trees with them.
See "Bulliheisle," "Eller Tree."
Wind, The
I. The wind, the wind, the wind blows high,
The rain comes pouring from the sky;
Miss So-and-So says she'd die
For the sake of the old man's eye.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
She is the lass of the golden city;
She goes courting one, two, three,
Please to tell me who they be.
A. B. says he loves her,
All the boys are fighting for her,
Let the boys say what they will
A. B. has got her still.
--Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire (Miss Matthews).
II. The wind, wind blows, and the rain, rain goes,
And the clouds come gathering from the sky!
_Annie Dingley's_ very, very pretty,
She is a girl of a noble city;
She's the girl of one, two, three,
Pray come tell me whose she'll be.
_Johnny Tildersley_ says he loves her,
All the boys are fighting for her,
All the girls think nothing of her.
Let the boys say what they will,
_Johnny Tildersley's_ got her still.
He takes her by the lily-white hand
And leads her over the water,
Gives her kisses one, two, three,
Mrs. _Dingley's_ daughter!
--Berrington, Eccleshall (_Shropshire Folk-lore_, p. 510).
III. When the wind blows high,
When the wind blows high,
The rain comes peltering from the sky.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
She is the girl in all the city.
She [He?] comes courting one, two, three,
Pray you tell me who she be.
I love her, I love her,
All the boys are fighting for her.
Let them all say what they will,
I shall love her always still.
She pulled off her gloves to show me her ring,
To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding bells ring.
--Cowes, Isle of Wight (Miss E. Smith).
IV. The wind, the wind, the wind blows high,
The rain comes falling from the sky.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
She is the girl of London city.
She goes a courting one, two, three,
Please will you tell me who is he?
[Boy's name] says he loves her.
All the boys are fighting for her.
Let the boys do what they will,
[Boy's name] has got her still.
He knocks at the knocker and he rings at the bell,
Please, Mrs. ----, is your daughter in?
She's neither ways in, she's neither ways out,
She's in the back parlour walking about.
Out she came as white as snow,
With a rose in her breast as soft as silk.
Please, my dear, will you have a drop of this?
No, my dear, I'd rather have a kiss.
--Settle, Yorks. (Rev. W. G. Sykes).
V. The wind, the wind, the wind blows high,
The rain comes sparkling from the sky,
[A girl's name] says she'll die
For a lad with a rolling eye.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
She is the flower of the golden city.
She's got lovers one, two, three.
Come, pray, and tell me who they be.
[A boy's name] says he'll have her,
Some one else is waiting for her.
Lash the whip and away we go
To see Newcastle races, oh.
--Tyrie (Rev. W. Gregor).
[Another version after--
---- says he'll have her,
is--
In his bosom he will clap her.]
[Another one after--
She has got lovers one, two, three,
continues--
Wait till [a boy's name] grows some bigger,
He will ride her in his giggie.
Lash your whip and away you go
To see Newcastle races, O!]
--Pittulie (Rev. W. Gregor).
[And another version gives--
---- says she'll die
For the want of the golden eye.]
--Fochabers (Rev. W. Gregor).
VI. The wind blows high, and the wind blows low,
The snow comes scattering down below.
Is not ---- very very pretty?
She is the flower of one, two, three.
Please to tell me who is he.
---- says he loves her,
All the boys are fighting for her.
Let the boys say what they will,
---- loves her still.
--Perth (Rev. W. Gregor).
A ring is formed by the children joining hands, one player standing in
the centre. When asked, "Please tell me who they be," the girl in the
middle gives the name or initials of a boy in the ring (or _vice
versa_). The ring then sings the rest of the words, and the boy who was
named goes into the centre. This is the Forest of Dean way of playing.
In the Shropshire game, at the end of the first verse the girl in the
centre beckons one from the ring, or one volunteers to go into the
centre; the ring continues singing, and at the end the two children
kiss; the first one joins the ring, and the other chooses in his turn.
The other versions are played in the same way.
Northall (_English Folk-Rhymes_, p. 380) gives a version from
Warwickshire very similar.
Wink-egg
Elworthy (_West Somerset Words_) says--When a nest is found boys shout,
"Let's play 'Wink-egg.'" An egg is placed on the ground, and a boy goes
back three paces from it, holding a stick in his hand; he then shuts his
eyes, and takes two paces towards the egg and strikes a blow on the
ground with the stick--the object being to break the egg. If he misses,
another tries, and so on until all the eggs are smashed. In Cornwall it
is called "Winky-eye," and is played in the spring. An egg taken from a
bird's nest is placed on the ground, at some distance off--the number of
paces having been previously fixed. Blindfolded, one after the other,
the players attempt with a stick to hit and break it.--_Folk-lore
Journal_, v. 61.
See "Blind Man's Stan."
Witch, The
This game is played by nine children. One is chosen as Mother, seven are
chosen for her children, and the other is a Witch. The Mother and Witch
stand opposite the seven children. The _Mother_ advances and names the
children by the days of the week, saying--
Sunday, take care of Monday,
Monday, take care of Tuesday,
Tuesday, take care of Wednesday,
Wednesday, take care of Thursday,
Thursday, take care of Friday,
Friday, take care of Saturday.
Take care the Old Witch does not catch you, and I'll bring you
something nice.
The Mother then goes away, and the Witch advances saying--
Sunday, your mother sent me for your best bonnet, she wants to get one
like it for Monday. It is up in the top long drawer, fetch it quick.
Sunday goes away, and the Witch then seizes Saturday and runs off with
her.
The Mother re-enters, and names the children again, Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, misses Saturday, and says--
Where's Saturday?
The children all cry and say--
The Old Witch has got her.
This part is then repeated until the Witch has taken all the children
and put them in a corner one by one, and stands in front to guard them.
The Mother sets out to find the children, she sees the Old Witch, and
says to her--
Have you seen my children?
_Witch._ Yes, I saw them walking down High Street.
_Mother_ then goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking--
Have you seen my children?
_W._ Yes, I saw them going to school.
_Mother_ then goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking--
Have you seen my children?
_W._ Yes, they are gone to church.
_Mother_ again goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking--
Have you seen my children?
_W._ They are having dinner--you can't see them.
_Mother_ again goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking--
Have you seen my children?
_W._ They are in bed.
_M._ Can't I go up and see them?
_W._ Your shoes are too dirty.
_M._ Can't I take them off?
_W._ Your stockings are too dirty.
_M._ Can't I take them off?
_W._ Your feet are too dirty.
_M._ Can't I cut them off?
_W._ The blood would run on the floor.
_M._ Can't I wrap them up in a blanket?
_W._ The fleas would hop out.
_M._ Can't I wrap them up in a sheet?
_W._ The sheet is too white.
_M._ Can't I ride up in a carriage?
_W._ You would break the stairs down.
The children then burst out from behind the Witch and they and the
Mother run after her, crying out, "Burn the Old Witch." They continue
chasing the Witch till she is caught, and the child who succeeds in
catching her, takes the part of the Witch in the next game.--Dartmouth
(Miss Kimber).
The children choose from their party an Old Witch (who is supposed to
hide herself) and a Mother. The other players are the daughters, and are
called by the names of the week. The Mother says that she is going to
market, and will bring home for each the thing that she most wishes for.
Upon this they all name something. Then, after telling them upon no
account to allow any one to come into the house, she gives her children
in charge of her eldest daughter, Sunday, and goes away. In a moment,
the Witch makes her appearance, and asks to borrow some trifle.
Sunday at first refuses, but, after a short parley, goes into the next
room to fetch the required article. In her absence the Witch steals the
youngest of the children (Saturday), and runs off with her. Sunday, on
her return, seeing that the Witch has left, thinks there must be
something wrong, and counts the children, saying, "Monday, Tuesday,"
&c., until she comes to Saturday, who is missing. She then pretends to
cry, wrings her hands, and sobs out--"Mother will beat me when she comes
home."
On the Mother's return, she, too, counts the children, and finding
Saturday gone, asks Sunday where she is. Sunday answers, "Oh, mother! an
Old Witch called, and asked to borrow ----, and, whilst I was fetching
it, she ran off with Saturday." The Mother scolds and beats her, tells
her to be more careful in the future, and again sets off for the market.
This is repeated until all the children but Sunday have been stolen.
Then the Mother and Sunday, hand in hand, go off to search for them.
They meet the Old Witch, who has them all crouching down in a line
behind her.
_Mother._ Have you seen my children?
_Old Witch._ Yes! I think by Eastgate.
The Mother and Sunday retire, as if to go there, but, not finding them,
again return to the Witch, who this time sends them to Westgate, then to
Southgate and Northgate. At last one of the children pops her head up
over the Witch's shoulder, and cries out, "Here we are, Mother." Then
follows this dialogue:--
_M._ I see my children, may I go in?
_O. W._ No! your boots are too dirty.
_M._ I will take them off.
_O. W._ Your stockings are too dirty.
_M._ I will take them off.
_O. W._ Your feet are too dirty.
_M._ I will cut them off.
_O. W._ Then the blood will stream over the floor.
The Mother at this loses patience, and pushes her way in, the Witch
trying in vain to keep her out. She, with all her children, then chase
the Witch until they catch her; when they pretend to bind her hand and
foot, put her on a pile, and burn her, the children fanning the
imaginary flames with their pinafores. Sometimes the dialogue after
"Here we are, mother," is omitted, and the Witch is at once
chased.--Cornwall (_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 53-54).
One child represents an old woman who is blind, and has eight children.
She says she is going to market, and bids her eldest daughter let no one
into the house in her absence. The eldest daughter promises. Then a
second old woman knocks, and bribes the daughter, by the promise of a
gay ribbon, to give her a light. Whilst the daughter is getting the
light, the Witch steals a child and carries it off.
The daughter comes back, and makes all the other children promise not to
tell their Mother. The Mother returns and says: "Are all the children
safe?"
The daughter says, "Yes." "Then let me count them." The children stand
in a row, and the Mother counts by placing her hands alternately on
their heads. The eldest daughter runs round to the bottom of the row,
and so is counted twice.
This is repeated until all the children are gone. At the end the eldest
daughter runs away, and the Mother finds all her children gone. Then the
Witch asks the old woman to dinner, and the children, who have covered
their faces, are served up as beef, mutton, lamb, &c. Finally they throw
off their coverings and a general scrimmage takes place.--London (Miss
Dendy).
At Deptford the game is played in the same way, and the dialogue is
similar to the Cornish version, then follows--
I'll ride in a pan.
That will do.
The Mother gets inside to her children and says to them in turn, "Poke
out your tongue, you're one of mine," then they run away home.--Deptford
(Miss Chase).
In another Deptford version the children are named for days of the week,
the Mother goes out, and the Witch calls and asks--
Please you, give me a match.
The minder goes upstairs, and the Witch carries a child off. The Mother
comes home, misses child, and asks--
Where's Monday?
She's gone to her grandma.
Mother pretends to look for her, and says--
She ain't there.
She's gone to her aunt's.
Children own at last--
The bonny Old Witch has took her!
The Mother beats the Daughter who has been so careless, goes to Witch,
and says--
Have you any blocks of wood?
No.
Can I come in and see?
No, your boots are too dirty, &c.
[Same as previous versions.]
A number of girls stand in a line. Three girls out of the number
represent Mother, Jack, and Daughter. The Mother leaves her children in
charge of her Daughter, counts them, and says the following:--
I am going into the garden to gather some rue,
And mind old Jack-daw don't get you,
Especially you my daughter Sue,
I'll beat you till you're black and blue.
While the Mother is gone Jack comes and asks for a match; he takes a
child and hides her up. The Mother comes back, counts her children, and
finds one missing. Then she asks where she is, and the Daughter says
that Jack has got her. The Mother beats the Daughter, and leaves them
again, saying the same words as before, until all the children have
gone.--Ipswich (_Suffolk Folk-lore_, p. 62).
I'll charge my children every one
To keep good house till I come home,
Especially you my daughter Sue,
Or else I'll beat you black and blue.
--Hersham, Surrey (_Folk-lore Record_, v. 88).
Halliwell gives a version of this which he calls the game of the
"Gipsy." He gives no dialogue, but his game begins by the Mother saying
some lines to the eldest daughter, which are almost identical with those
given from Hersham, Surrey. Mr. Newell gives some interesting American
versions.
This game appears in the versions given above to be a child-stealing
game, and it may originate from this being a common practice some years
ago, but it will be found on comparison to be so much like "Mother,
mother, the pot boils over" (vol. i. p. 396) that it is more probable
that this is the same game, having lost the important element of the
"giving of fire," or a "light from the fire" out of the house, so soon
as the idea that doing this put the inhabitants of the house into the
power of the receiver or some evil spirit had become lost as a popular
belief. "Matches" being asked for and a "light" confirms this. It will
be seen that a Witch or evilly-disposed person is dreaded by the Mother,
the eldest Daughter being specially charged to keep a good look-out. The
naming of the children after the days of the week, the counting of them
by the Mother, and the artifice of the eldest Daughter, in the London
version, who gets counted twice, are archaic points. The discovery by
tasting of the children by their Mother, and their suggested revival;
the catching and "burning" of the Witch in the Dartmouth and Cornish
games, are incidents familiar to us from nursery tales and from the
trials of people condemned for witchcraft. Of the Cornish version it is
said that "it has descended from generation to generation."
Mr. Newell's versions tend, I think, to strengthen my suggestion in
"Mother, the pot boils over," that the "fire" custom alluded to is the
origin of that game and this. The fire incident has been forgotten, and
the game therefore developed into a child-stealing or gipsy game.
See "Mother, Mother."
Witte-Witte-Way
A game among boys, which I do not remember in the South.--Brockett's
_North Country Words_. Probably the same as "Whiddy," which see.
Wolf
I. Sheep, sheep, come home!
We dare not.
What are you frightened of?
The wolf.
The wolf has gone home for seven days,
Sheep, sheep, come home.
--Settle, Yorks. (Rev. W. S. Sykes).
II. Sheep, sheep, come home!
I'm afraid.
What of?
The wolf.
The wolf's gone into Derbyshire,
And won't be back till six o'clock.
Sheep, sheep, come home.
--Hanbury, Staffordshire (Miss Edith Hollis).
III. Sheep, sheep, go out!
I'm afraid.
What you're 'fraid of?
Wolf.
Wolf has gone to Devonshire;
Won't be back for seven year.
Sheep, sheep, go out!
--Hurstmonceux, Sussex, as played about forty years ago (Miss E. Chase).
IV. Sheep, sheep, come home!
I'm afraid.
What of?
The wolf.
The wolf's gone to Devonshire,
And won't be back for seven year.
Sheep, sheep, come home.
--Anderby (Miss M. Peacock), Barnes (A. B. Gomme).
V., VI. Won't be back for eleven year.
--Nottinghamshire (Miss M. Peacock).
--Marlborough, Wilts (H. S. May).
(_b_) One player acts as Shepherd, and stands at one side of the
playground or field; another acts as Wolf. He crouches in one corner, or
behind a post or tree. The other players are sheep, and stand close
together on the opposite side of the ground to the Shepherd. The
Shepherd advances and calls the sheep. At the end of the dialogue the
sheep run across to the Shepherd and the Wolf pounces out, chases, and
tries to catch them. Whoever he catches has to stand aside until all are
caught. The game is played in this way in all versions sent me except
Hurstmonceux, where there is the following addition:--The Wolf chases
until he has caught all the sheep, and put them in his den. He then
pretends to taste them, and sets them aside as needing more salt. The
Shepherd or Mother comes after them, and the sheep cover their heads
with their aprons. The Mother guesses the name of each child, saying,
"This is my daughter ----. Run away home!" until she has freed them all.
Versions of this game, almost identical with the Anderby version, have
been collected from Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews); Crockham Hill, Kent
(Miss E. Chase); Hersham, Surrey (_Folk-lore Record_, v. p. 88);
Marlborough, Wilts (H. S. May); Ash and Barnes, Surrey (A. B. Gomme). In
Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire is the place the wolf is said to have gone
to. Mr. M. L. Rouse sends the following fuller description of the game
as played at Woolpit, near Haughley, Suffolk, which gives, I think, the
clue to the earlier idea of the game:--
The game was played out of doors in a meadow. Two long parallel lines
were drawn about fifty yards apart, forming bases behind them. Two boys
stood some distance apart between the bases, and the rest of the players
all stood within one base. One of the two boys in the centre acting as
decoy cried "Sheep, sheep, come home!" The sheep represented by the boys
in the base cried back, "We can't, we're afraid of the Wolf." The decoy
then said--
The wolf's gone to Devonshire,
And won't be back for seven year.
Sheep, sheep, come home.
The sheep then made rushes from different points, and tried to get
across to the other base. The other player in the centre tried to catch
the sheep as they ran. Those caught joined the side of the wolf, and
caught others in their turn.
It appears clear that the "Decoy" is the correct character in this game
instead of a "shepherd" or "master," as now given. The decoy is
evidently assuming the character and voice of the shepherd, or
shepherd's dog, to induce the sheep to leave the fold where they are
protected, in order to pounce upon them as they endeavour to go in the
direction the voice calls them. The game owes its origin to times and
places, when wolves were prowling about at night, and sheep were penned
and protected against them by shepherds and watch-dogs.
Wolf and the Lamb, The