an A because she is amiable." In this game every player has to repeat
the same sentence, but using a different adjective, which adjective must
begin with the letter A. Various sentences follow. At the next round the
adjectives all begin with B; the next C, until a small story has been
built up. Forfeits were exacted for every failure or mistake. The
formula usually was--
I love my love with an A because she is ( ). I hate her with an
A because she is ( ). I took her to the sign of the ( ), and
treated her to ( ). The result was ( ).
Mollish's Land
Cornish name for "Tom Tiddler's Ground."--_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 57.
Monday, Tuesday
A game played with a ball. There are seven players, who each take a name
from one of the days of the week. One (Sunday) begins by throwing the
ball against a wall, calling out at the same time the name of one of the
days, who has to run and catch it before it falls. If this one fails to
catch the ball, the first player picks up the ball and tries to hit one
of the six with it, who all endeavour to escape being hit. If the player
succeeds, he again throws the ball against the wall, calling out another
day of the week to catch it. If a player gets hit three times, he is
out. The winner is he who has either not been hit at all or the fewest
times, or who has been able to stay in the longest. The same game is
played with twelve children, who are named after the twelve months of
the year.--London and Barnes (A. B. Gomme); _Strand Magazine_, ii. 519
(F. H. Low).
This game belongs apparently to the ball games used for purposes of
divination. Mr. Newell (_Games_, p. 181) describes a similar game to
this, in which the player whose name is called drops the ball; he must
pick it up as quickly as possible while the rest scatter. He then calls
"Stand!" upon which the players halt, and he flings it at whom he
pleases. If he misses his aim, he must place himself in a bent position
with his hands against a wall until every player has taken a shot at
him. The idea of naming children after the days of the week occurs also
in the games of "Gipsy," "Witch," and "Mother, Mother, the Pot boils
over."
See "Ball," "Burly Whush," "Keppy Ball."
Moolie Pudding
The game of "Deadelie;" one has to run with the hands locked and "taen"
the others.--Mactaggart's _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_.
See "Chickidy Hand," "Deadelie," "Hunt the Staigie," "Whiddy."
More Sacks to the Mill
A very rough game, mentioned in Dean Miles' MS., p. 180 (Halliwell's
_Dictionary_). Lowsley (_Berkshire Glossary_) says this is "a favourite
game with children at Christmas-time, when wishing for one of a romping
character," but he does not describe it further. Northall (_English Folk
Rhymes_, p. 354) says that in Warwickshire and Staffordshire boys
torture an unfortunate victim by throwing him on the ground and falling
atop of him, yelling out the formula, "Bags to [on] the mill." This
summons calls up other lads, and they add their weight.
Mother, may I go out to Play?
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.