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THE NURSERY RHYMES OF ENGLAND.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE NURSERY RHYMES OF ENGLAND:
Collected by
JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL.
THE NURSERY RHYMES
OF
ENGLAND.
BY JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. B. SCOTT.
[Illustration]
LONDON AND NEW YORK: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.
1886.
[Illustration]
PREFACE
TO THE
FIFTH EDITION.
The great encouragement which has been given by the public to the
previous editions of this little work, satisfactorily proves that,
notwithstanding the extension of serious education to all but the very
earliest periods of life, there still exists an undying love for the
popular remnants of the ancient Scandinavian nursery literature.
The infants and children of the nineteenth century have not, then,
deserted the rhymes chanted so many ages since by the mothers of the
North. This is a "great nursery fact"--a proof that there is contained
in some of these traditional nonsense-rhymes a meaning and a romance,
possibly intelligible only to very young minds, that exercise an
influence on the fancy of children. It is obvious there must exist
something of this kind; for no modern compositions are found to supply
altogether the place of the ancient doggerel.
The nursery rhyme is the novel and light reading of the infant
scholar. It occupies, with respect to the A B C, the position of a
romance which relieves the mind from the cares of a riper age.
The absurdity and frivolity of a rhyme may naturally be its chief
attractions to the very young; and there will be something lost from
the imagination of that child, whose parents insist so much on matters
of fact, that the "cow" must be made, in compliance with the rules
of their educational code, to jump "_under_" instead of "_over_ the
moon;" while of course the little dog must be considered as "barking,"
not "laughing" at the circumstance.
These, or any such objections,--for it seems there are others of
about equal weight,--are, it appears to me, more silly than the worst
nursery rhyme the little readers will meet with in the following
pages. I am quite willing to leave the question to their decision,
feeling assured the catering for them has not been in vain, and
that these cullings from the high-ways and bye-ways--they have been
collected from nearly every county in England--will be to them real
flowers, soothing the misery of many an hour of infantine adversity.
[Illustration]
NURSERY RHYMES.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
FIRST CLASS--HISTORICAL 1
SECOND CLASS--LITERAL 14
THIRD CLASS--TALES 22
FOURTH CLASS--PROVERBS 68
FIFTH CLASS--SCHOLASTIC 76
SIXTH CLASS--SONGS 82
SEVENTH CLASS--RIDDLES 119
EIGHTH CLASS--CHARMS 135
NINTH CLASS--GAFFERS AND GAMMERS 141
TENTH CLASS--GAMES 154
ELEVENTH CLASS--PARADOXES 196
TWELFTH CLASS--LULLABIES 205
THIRTEENTH CLASS--JINGLES 213
FOURTEENTH CLASS--LOVE AND MATRIMONY 224
FIFTEENTH CLASS--NATURAL HISTORY 251
SIXTEENTH CLASS--ACCUMULATIVE STORIES 282
SEVENTEENTH CLASS--LOCAL 299
EIGHTEENTH CLASS--RELICS 303
INDEX 317
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
FIRST CLASS--HISTORICAL.
I.
Old King Cole
Was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler, he had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers.
Oh, there's none so rare,
As can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three!
[The traditional Nursery Rhymes of England commence with a
legendary satire on King Cole, who reigned in Britain, as the
old chroniclers inform us, in the third century after Christ.
According to Robert of Gloucester, he was the father of
St. Helena, and if so, Butler must be wrong in ascribing an
obscure origin to the celebrated mother of Constantine. King
Cole was a brave and popular man in his day, and ascended
the throne of Britain on the death of Asclepiod, amidst
the acclamations of the people, or, as Robert of Gloucester
expresses himself, the "fole was tho of this lond y-paid wel
y-nou." At Colchester there is a large earthwork, supposed to
have been a Roman amphitheatre, which goes popularly by
the name of "King Cole's kitchen." According to Jeffrey of
Monmouth, King Cole's daughter was well skilled in music, but
we unfortunately have no evidence to show that her father was
attached to that science, further than what is contained in
the foregoing lines, which are of doubtful antiquity. The
following version of the song is of the seventeenth century,
the one given above being probably a modernization:--
Good King Cole,
He call'd for his bowl,
And he call'd for fidlers three:
And there was fiddle fiddle,
And twice fiddle fiddle,
For 'twas my lady's birth-day;
Therefore we keep holiday,
And come to be merry.]
II.
When good king Arthur ruled this land,
He was a goodly king;
He stole three pecks of barley-meal,
To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuff'd it well with plums:
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.
The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried.
III.
[The following song relating to Robin Hood, the celebrated
outlaw, is well known at Worksop, in Nottinghamshire, where it
constitutes one of the nursery series.]
Robin Hood, Robin Hood,
Is in the mickle wood!
Little John, Little John,
He to the town is gone.
Robin Hood, Robin Hood,
Is telling his beads,
All in the green wood,
Among the green weeds.
Little John, Little John,
If he comes no more,
Robin Hood, Robin Hood,
He will fret full sore!
IV.
[The following lines were obtained in Oxfordshire. The story
to which it alludes is related by Matthew Paris.]
One moonshiny night
As I sat high,
Waiting for one
To come by;
The boughs did bend,
My heart did ache
To see what hole the fox did make.
V.
[The following perhaps refers to Joanna of Castile, who
visited the court of Henry the Seventh, in the year 1506.]
I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg and a golden pear;
The king of Spain's daughter came to visit me,
And all was because of my little nut tree.
I skipp'd over water, I danced over sea,
And all the birds in the air couldn't catch me.
VI.
[From a MS. in the old Royal Library, in the British Museum,
the exact reference to which is mislaid. It is written, if I
recollect rightly, in a hand of the time of Henry VIII, in an
older manuscript.]
We make no spare
Of John Hunkes' mare;
And now I
Think she will die;
He thought it good
To put her in the wood,
To seek where she might ly dry;
If the mare should chance to fale,
Then the crownes would for her sale.
VII.
[From MS. Sloane, 1489, fol. 19, written in the time of
Charles I.]
The king of France, and four thousand men,
They drew their swords, and put them up again.
VIII.
[In a tract, called 'Pigges Corantoe, or Newes from the
North,' 4to Lond. 1642, p. 3, this is called "Old Tarlton's
Song." It is perhaps a parody on the popular epigram of "Jack
and Jill." I do not know the period of the battle to which it
appears to allude, but Tarlton died in the year 1588, so that
the rhyme must be earlier.]
The king of France went up the hill,
With twenty thousand men;
The king of France came down the hill,
And ne'er went up again.
IX.
The king of France, with twenty thousand men,
Went up the hill, and then came down again;
The king of Spain, with twenty thousand more,
Climb'd the same hill the French had climb'd before.
X.
[Another version. The nurse sings the first line, and repeats
it, time after time, until the expectant little one asks, what
next? Then comes the climax.]
The king of France, the king of France, with forty thousand men,
Oh, they all went up the hill, and so--came back again!
XI.
At the siege of Belle-isle
I was there all the while,
All the while, all the while,
At the siege of Belle-isle.
XII.
[The tune to the following may be found in the 'English
Dancing Master,' 1631, p. 37.]
The rose is red, the grass is green,
Serve Queen Bess our noble queen;
Kitty the spinner
Will sit down to dinner,
And eat the leg of a frog;
All good people
Look over the steeple,
And see the cat play with the dog.
XIII.
Good Queen Bess was a glorious dame,
When bonny King Jemmy from Scotland came;
We'll pepper their bodies,
Their peaceable noddies,
And give them a crack of the crown!
XIV.
[The word _tory_ has changed greatly in its meaning, as it
originated in the reign of Elizabeth, and represented a class
of "bog-trotters," who were a compound of the knave and the
highwayman. For many interesting particulars see Crofton
Croker's 'Researches in the South of Ireland,' 4to, 1824, p.
52.]
Ho! Master Teague, what is your story?
I went to the wood and kill'd a _tory_;
I went to the wood and kill'd another;
Was it the same, or was it his brother?
I hunted him in, and I hunted him out,
Three times through the bog, about and about;
When out of a bush I saw his head,
So I fired my gun, and I shot him dead.
XV.
Please to remember
The fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
XVI.
[Taken from MS. Douce, 357, fol. 124. See Echard's 'History of
England,' book iii, chap. 1.]
See saw, sack-a-day;
Monmouth is a pretie boy,
Richmond is another,
Grafton is my onely joy,
And why should I these three destroy,
To please a pious brother!
XVII.
Over the water, and over the lee,
And over the water to Charley.
Charley loves good ale and wine,
And Charley loves good brandy,
And Charley loves a pretty girl,
As sweet as sugar-candy.
Over the water, and over the sea,
And over the water to Charley,
I'll have none of your nasty beef,
Nor I'll have none of your barley;
But I'll have some of your very best flour;
To make a white cake for my Charley.
XVIII.
[The following is partly quoted in an old song in a MS. at
Oxford, Ashmole, No. 36, fol. 113.]
As I was going by Charing Cross,
I saw a black man upon a black horse;
They told me it was King Charles the First;
Oh dear! my heart was ready to burst!
XIX.
High diddle ding,
Did you hear the bells ring?
The parliament soldiers are gone to the king!
Some they did laugh, some they did cry,
To see the parliament soldiers pass by.
XX.
High ding a ding, and ho ding a ding,
The parliament soldiers are gone to the king;
Some with new beavers, some with new bands,
The parliament soldiers are all to be hang'd.
XXI.
Hector Protector was dressed all in green;
Hector Protector was sent to the Queen.
The Queen did not like him,
Nor more did the King:
So Hector Protector was sent back again.
XXII.
[The following is a fragment of a song on the subject, which
was introduced by Russell in the character of Jerry Sneak.]
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
They made him a coat
Of an old nanny goat,
I wonder how they could do so!
With a ring a ting tang,
And a ring a ting tang,
Poor old Robinson Crusoe!
XXIII.
[Written on occasion of the marriage of Mary, the daughter of
James duke of York, afterwards James II, with the young Prince
of Orange. The song from which these lines are taken may be
seen in 'The Jacobite Minstrelsy,' 12mo, Glasgow, 1828, p.
28.]
What is the rhyme for _poringer?_
The king he had a daughter fair,
And gave the Prince of Orange her.
XXIV.
[The following nursery song alludes to William III and George
prince of Denmark.]
William and Mary, George and Anne,
Four such children had never a man:
They put their father to flight and shame,
And call'd their brother a shocking bad name.
XXV.
[A song on King William the Third.]
As I walk'd by myself,
And talked to myself,
Myself said unto me,
Look to thyself,
Take care of thyself,
For nobody cares for thee.
I answer'd myself,
And said to myself
In the self-same repartee,
Look to thyself,
Or not look to thyself,
The self-same thing will be.
XXVI.
[From MS. Sloane, 1489, fol. 19, written in the time of
Charles I. It appears from MS. Harl. 390, fol. 85, that these
verses were written in 1626, against the Duke of Buckingham.]
There was a monkey climb'd up a tree,
When he fell down, then down fell he.
There was a crow sat on a stone,
When he was gone, then there was none.
There was an old wife did eat an apple,
When she had eat two, she had eat a couple.
There was a horse going to the mill,
When he went on, he stood not still.
There was a butcher cut his thumb,
When it did bleed, then blood did come.
There was a lackey ran a race,
When he ran fast, he ran apace.
There was a cobbler clowting shoon,
When they were mended, they were done.
There was a chandler making candle,
When he them strip, he did them handle.
There was a navy went into Spain,
When it return'd it came again.
XXVII.
[The following may possibly allude to King George and the
Pretender.]
Jim and George were two great lords,
They fought all in a churn;
And when that Jim got George by the nose,
Then George began to gern.
XXVIII.
Little General Monk
Sat upon a trunk,
Eating a crust of bread;
There fell a hot coal
And burnt in his clothes a hole,
Now General Monk is dead.
Keep always from the fire:
If it catch your attire,
You too, like Monk, will be dead.
XXIX.
Eighty-eight wor Kirby feight,
When nivver a man was slain;
They yatt their meaat, an drank ther drink
An sae com merrily heaam agayn.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
SECOND CLASS--LITERAL.
XXX.
One, two, three,
I love coffee,
And Billy loves tea.
How good you be,
One, two, three.
I love coffee,
And Billy loves tea.
XXXI.
A, B, C, tumble down D,
The cat's in the cupboard and can't see me.
XXXII.
[_Finis._]
F for fig, J for jig,
And N for knuckle bones,
I for John the waterman,
And S for sack of stones.
XXXIII.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5!
I caught a hare alive;
6, 7, 8, 9, 10!
I let her go again.
XXXIV.
Great A, little a,
Bouncing B!
The cat's in the cupboard,
And she can't see.
XXXV.
One's none;
Two's some;
Three's a many;
Four's a penny;
Five is a little hundred.
XXXVI.
A, B, C, and D,
Pray, playmates, agree,
E, F, and G,
Well so it shall be.
J, K, and L,
In peace we will dwell
M, N, and O,
To play let us go.
P, Q, R, and S,
Love may we possess,
W, X, and Y,
Will not quarrel or die.
Z, and amperse-and,
Go to school at command.
XXXVII.
Hickery, dickery, 6 and 7,
Alabone Crackabone 10 and 11,
Spin span muskidan;
Twiddle 'um twaddle 'um, 21.
XXXVIII.
Apple-pie, pudding, and pancake,
All begins with an A.
XXXIX.
Miss one, two, and three could never agree,
While they gossiped round a tea-caddy.
XL.
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Shut the door;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A good fat hen;
Eleven, twelve,
Who will delve?
Thirteen, fourteen,
Maids a courting;
Fifteen, sixteen,
Maids a kissing;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Maids a waiting;
Nineteen, twenty,
My stomach's empty.
XLI.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
So I will, master, as fast as I can:
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T,
Put in the oven for Tommy and me.
XLII.
[Tom Thumb's Alphabet.]
A was an archer, and shot at a frog,
B was a butcher, and had a great dog.
C was a captain, all covered with lace,
D was a drunkard, and had a red face.
E was an esquire, with pride on his brow,
F was a farmer, and followed the plough.
G was a gamester, who had but ill luck,
H was a hunter and hunted a buck.
I was an innkeeper, who lov'd to bouse,
J was a joiner, and built up a house.
K was King William, once governed this land,
L was a lady, who had a white hand.
M was a miser, and hoarded up gold,
N was a nobleman, gallant and bold.
O was an oyster wench, and went about town,
P was a parson, and wore a black gown.
Q was a queen, who was fond of good flip,
R was a robber, and wanted a whip.
S was a sailor, and spent all he got,
T was a tinker, and mended a pot.
U was an usurer, a miserable elf,
V was a vintner, who drank all himself.
W was a watchman, and guarded the door.
X was expensive, and so became poor.
Y was a youth, that did not love school,
Z was a zany, a poor harmless fool.
XLIII.
A was an apple-pie;
B bit it;
C cut it;
D dealt it;
E eat it;
F fought for it;
G got it;
H had it;
J joined it;
K kept it;
L longed for it;
M mourned for it;
N nodded at it;
O opened it;
P peeped in it;
Q quartered it;
R ran for it;
S stole it;
T took it;
V viewed it;
W wanted it;
X, Y, Z, and amperse-and,
All wish'd for a piece in hand.
XLIV.
A for the ape, that we saw at the fair;
B for a blockhead, who ne'er shall go there;
C for a collyflower, white as a curd;
D for a duck, a very good bird;
E for an egg, good in pudding or pies;
F for a farmer, rich, honest, and wise;
G for a gentleman, void of all care;
H for the hound, that ran down the hare;
I for an Indian, sooty and dark;
K for the keeper, that look'd to the park;
L for a lark, that soar'd in the air;
M for a mole, that ne'er could get there;
N for Sir Nobody, ever in fault;
O for an otter, that ne'er could be caught;
P for a pudding, stuck full of plums;
Q was for quartering it, see here he comes;
R for a rook, that croak'd in the trees;
S for a sailor, that plough'd the deep seas;
T for a top, that doth prettily spin;
V for a virgin of delicate mien;
W for wealth, in gold, silver, and pence;
X for old Xenophon, noted for sense;
Y for a yew, which for ever is green;
Z for the zebra, that belongs to the queen.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THIRD CLASS--TALES.
XLV.
THE STORY OF CATSKIN.
There once was a gentleman grand,
Who lived at his country seat;
He wanted an heir to his land,
For he'd nothing but daughters yet.
His lady's again in the way,
So she said to her husband with joy,
"I hope some or other fine day,
To present you, my dear, with a boy."
The gentleman answered gruff,
"If 't should turn out a maid or a mouse,
For of both we have more than enough,
She shan't stay to live in my house."
The lady, at this declaration,
Almost fainted away with pain;
But what was her sad consternation,
When a sweet little girl came again.
She sent her away to be nurs'd,
Without seeing her gruff papa;
And when she was old enough,
To a school she was packed away.
Fifteen summers are fled,
Now she left good Mrs. Jervis;
To see home she was forbid,--
She determined to go and seek service.
Her dresses so grand and so gay,
She carefully rolled in a knob;
Which she hid in a forest away,
And put on a Catskin robe.
She knock'd at a castle gate,
And pray'd for charity;
They sent her some meat on a plate,
And kept her a scullion to be.
My lady look'd long in her face,
And prais'd her great beauty;
I'm sorry I've no better place,
And you must our scullion be.
So Catskin was under the cook,
A very sad life she led,
For often a ladle she took,
And broke poor Catskin's head.
There is now a grand ball to be,
When ladies their beauties show;
"Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me,
How much I should like to go!"
"You go with your Catskin robe,
You dirty impudent slut!
Among the fine ladies and lords,
A very fine figure you'd cut."
A basin of water she took,
And dash'd in poor Catskin's face;
But briskly her ears she shook,
And went to her hiding-place.
She washed every stain from her skin,
In some crystal waterfall;
Then put on a beautiful dress,
And hasted away to the ball.
When she entered, the ladies were mute,
Overcome by her figure and face;
But the lord, her young master, at once
Fell in love with her beauty and grace;
He pray'd her his partner to be,
She said, "Yes!" with a sweet smiling glance;
All night with no other lady
But Catskin, our young lord would dance.
"Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live?"
For now was the sad parting time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,--
[Old English Script:
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Basin of Water I Dwell.]
Then she flew from the ball-room, and put
On her Catskin robe again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,
Who little thought where she had been.
The young lord, the very next day,
To his mother his passion betrayed;
He declared he never would rest,
Till he'd found out this beautiful maid.
There's another grand ball to be,
Where ladies their beauties show;
"Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me,
How much I should like to go!"
"You go with your Catskin robe,
You dirty impudent slut!
Among the fine ladies and lords,
A very fine figure you'd cut."
In a rage the ladle she took,
And broke poor Catskin's head;
But off she went shaking her ears,
And swift to her forest she fled.
She washed every blood-stain off
In some crystal waterfall;
Put on a more beautiful dress,
And hasted away to the ball.
My lord, at the ball-room door,
Was waiting with pleasure and pain;
He longed to see nothing so much
As the beautiful Catskin again.
When he asked her to dance, she again
Said "Yes!" with her first smiling glance;
And again, all the night, my young lord
With none but fair Catskin did dance.
"Pray tell me," said he, "where you live?"
For now 'twas the parting-time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,--
[Old English Script:
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Broken-Ladle I dwell.]
Then she flew from the ball, and put on
Her Catskin robe again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,
Who little thought where she had been.
My lord did again, the next day,
Declare to his mother his mind,
That he never more happy should be,
Unless he his charmer should find.
Now another grand ball is to be,
Where ladies their beauties show;
"Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me,
How much I should like to go!"
"You go with your Catskin robe,
You impudent, dirty slut!
Among the fine ladies and lords,
A very fine figure you'd cut."
In a fury she took the skimmer,
And broke poor Catskin's head;
But heart-whole and lively as ever,
Away to her forest she fled.
She washed the stains of blood
In some crystal waterfall;
Then put on her most beautiful dress,
And hasted away to the ball.
My lord, at the ball-room door,
Was waiting with pleasure and pain;
He longed to see nothing so much
As the beautiful Catskin again.
When he asked her to dance, she again
Said "Yes!" with her first smiling glance;
And all the night long, my young lord
With none but fair Catskin would dance.
"Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live?"
For now was the parting-time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,--
[Old English Script:
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Broken-Skimmer I dwell.]
Then she flew from the ball, and threw on
Her Catskin cloak again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,
Who little thought where she had been.
But not by my lord unseen,
For this time he followed too fast;
And, hid in the forest green,
Saw the strange things that past.
Next day he took to his bed,
And sent for the doctor to come;
And begg'd him no other than Catskin,
Might come into his room.
He told him how dearly he lov'd her,
Not to have her his heart would break:
Then the doctor kindly promised
To the proud old lady to speak.
There's a struggle of pride and love,
For she fear'd her son would die;
But pride at the last did yield,
And love had the mastery.
Then my lord got quickly well,
When he was his charmer to wed;
And Catskin, before a twelvemonth,
Of a young lord was brought to bed.
To a wayfaring woman and child,
Lady Catskin one day sent an alms;
The nurse did the errand, and carried
The sweet little lord in her arms.
The child gave the alms to the child,
This was seen by the old lady-mother;
"Only see," said that wicked old woman,
"How the beggars' brats take to each other!"
This throw went to Catskin's heart,
She flung herself down on her knees,
And pray'd her young master and lord
To seek out her parents would please.
They set out in my lord's own coach;
They travelled, but nought befel
Till they reach'd the town hard by,
Where Catskin's father did dwell.
They put up at the head inn,
Where Catskin was left alone;
But my lord went to try if her father
His natural child would own.
When folks are away, in short time
What great alterations appear;
For the cold touch of death had all chill'd
The hearts of her sisters dear.
Her father repented too late,
And the loss of his youngest bemoan'd;
In his old and childless state,
He his pride and cruelty own'd.
The old gentleman sat by the fire,
And hardly looked up at my lord;
He had no hopes of comfort
A stranger could afford.
But my lord drew a chair close by,
And said, in a feeling tone,
"Have you not, sir, a daughter, I pray,
You never would see or own?"
The old man alarm'd, cried aloud,
"A hardened sinner am I!
I would give all my worldly goods,
To see her before I die."
Then my lord brought his wife and child
To their home and parent's face,
Who fell down and thanks returned
To God, for his mercy and grace.
The bells, ringing up in the tower,
Are sending a sound to the heart;
There's a charm in the old church-bells,
Which nothing in life can impart!
XLVI.
[The tale of Simple Simon forms one of the chap-books, but the
following verses are those generally sung in the nursery.]
Simple Simon met a pieman
Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Let me taste your ware."
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first your penny."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Indeed I have not any."
Simple Simon went a fishing
For to catch a whale:
All the water he had got
Was in his mother's pail.
[Illustration]
XLVII.
Punch and Judy,
Fought for a pie,
Punch gave Judy
A sad blow on the eye.
XLVIII.
There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile:
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
XLIX.
Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday:
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy.
L.
Robin the Bobbin, the big-bellied Ben,
He eat more meat than fourscore men;
He eat a cow, he eat a calf,
He eat a butcher and a half;
He eat a church, he eat a steeple,
He eat the priest and all the people!
A cow and a calf,
An ox and a half,
A church and a steeple,
And all the good people,
And yet he complain'd that his stomach wasn't full.
[Illustration]
LI.
There was a fat man of Bombay,
Who was smoking one sunshiny day,
When a bird, called a snipe,
Flew away with his pipe,
Which vex'd the fat man of Bombay.
LII.
My dear, do you know,
How a long time ago,
Two poor little children,
Whose names I don't know,
Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,
And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.
And when it was night,
So sad was their plight,
The sun it went down,
And the moon gave no light!
They sobb'd and they sigh'd, and they bitterly cried,
And the poor little things, they lay down and died.
And when they were dead,
The Robins so red
Brought strawberry leaves,
And over them spread;
And all the day long,
They sung them this song,
"Poor babes in the wood! poor babes in the wood!
And don't you remember the babes in the wood?"
LIII.
There was a man, and he had naught,
And robbers came to rob him;
He crept up to the chimney pot,
And then they thought they had him.
But he got down on t'other side,
And then they could not find him;
He ran fourteen miles in fifteen days,
And never look'd behind him.
LIV.
There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And he went to the brook,
And he shot a little rook;
And he took it home
To his old wife Joan,
And told her to make up a fire,
While he went back,
To fetch the little drake;
But when he got there,
The drake was fled for fear,
And like an old novice,
He turn'd back again.
LV.
THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS.
Once upon a time there was an old sow with three little pigs, and
as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their
fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and
said to him, "Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house;"
which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently
came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said,--
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
To which the pig answered,--
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
The wolf then answered to that,--
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and eat up the
little pig.
The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said,
"Please, man, give me that furze to build a house;" which the man did,
and the pig built his house. Then along came the wolf, and said,--
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
"Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last
he blew the house down, and he eat up the little pig.
The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said,
"Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with;" so the man
gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the wolf
came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said,--
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he puffed, and he
puffed, and he huffed; but he could _not_ get the house down. When he
found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the
house down, he said, "Little pig, I know where there is a nice
field of turnips." "Where?" said the little pig. "Oh, in Mr. Smith's
Home-field, and if you will be ready to-morrow morning I will call for
you, and we will go together, and get some for dinner." "Very well,"
said the little pig, "I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?"
"Oh, at six o'clock." Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the
turnips before the wolf came--(which he did about six)--and who said,
"Little pig, are you ready?" The little pig said, "Ready! I have been,
and come back again, and got a nice pot-full for dinner." The wolf
felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be _up to_ the
little pig somehow or other, so he said, "Little pig, I know
where there is a nice apple-tree." "Where?" said the pig. "Down at
Merry-garden," replied the wolf, "and if you will not deceive me I
will come for you, at five o'clock to-morrow, and we will go together
and get some apples." Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning
at four o'clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back
before the wolf came; but he had further to go, and had to climb the
tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf
coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the
wolf came up he said, "Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are
they nice apples?" "Yes, very," said the little pig. "I will throw you
down one;" and he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to
pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the
wolf came again, and said to the little pig, "Little pig, there is a
fair at Shanklin this afternoon, will you go?" "Oh yes," said the pig,
"I will go; what time shall you be ready?" "At three," said the wolf.
So the little pig went off before the time as usual, and got to the
fair, and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with, when he
saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into
the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round, and it rolled down
the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much, that
he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the little pig's
house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing
which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said, "Hah, I
frightened you then. I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn,
and when I saw you, I got into it, and rolled down the hill." Then the
wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he _would_ eat up the little
pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the little
pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made
up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off the
cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again
in an instant, boiled him up, and eat him for supper, and lived happy
ever afterwards.
LVI.
Little Tommy Tittlemouse
Lived in a little house;
He caught fishes
In other men's ditches.
LVII.
Little King Boggen he built a fine hall.
Pye-crust, and pastry-crust, that was the wall;
The windows were made of black-puddings and white,
And slated with pancakes--you ne'er saw the like.
LVIII.
The lion and the unicorn
Were fighting for the crown;
The lion beat the unicorn
All round about the town.
Some gave them white bread,
And some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum-cake,
And sent them out of town.
LIX.
There was a jolly miller
Lived on the river Dee,
He look'd upon his pillow,
And there he saw a flee.
Oh! Mr. Flea,
You have been biting me,
And you must die:
So he crack'd his bones
Upon the stones,
And there he let him lie.
LX.
Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Stole a pig, and away he run!
The pig was eat, and Tom was beat,
And Tom went roaring down the street.
[Illustration]
LXI.
In Arthur's court Tom Thumb[*] did live,
A man of mickle might;
The best of all the table round,
And eke a doughty knight.
His stature but an inch in height,
Or quarter of a span;
Then think you not this little knight
Was proved a valiant man?
His father was a ploughman plain,
His mother milk'd the cow,
Yet how that they might have a son
They knew not what to do:
Until such time this good old man
To learned Merlin goes,
And there to him his deep desires
In secret manner shows.
How in his heart he wish'd to have
A child, in time to come,
To be his heir, though it might be
No bigger than his thumb.
Of which old Merlin thus foretold,
That he his wish should have,
And so this son of stature small
The charmer to him gave.
No blood nor bones in him should be,
In shape, and being such
That men should hear him speak, but not
His wandering shadow touch.
But so unseen to go or come,--
Whereas it pleas'd him still;
Begot and born in half an hour,
To fit his father's will.
And in four minutes grew so fast
That he became so tall
As was the ploughman's thumb in height,
And so they did him call--
TOM THUMB, the which the fairy queen
There gave him to his name,
Who, with her train of goblins grim,
Unto his christening came.
Whereas she cloth'd him richly brave,
In garments fine and fair,
Which lasted him for many years
In seemly sort to wear.
His hat made of an oaken leaf,
His shirt a spider's web,
Both light and soft for those his limbs
That were so smally bred.
His hose and doublet thistle-down,
Together weaved full fine;
His stockings of an apple green,
Made of the outward rind;
His garters were two little hairs
Pull'd from his mother's eye;
His boots and shoes, a mouse's skin,
Were tann'd most curiously
Thus like a lusty gallant, he
Adventured forth to go,
With other children in the streets,
His pretty tricks to show.
Where he for counters, pins, and points,
And cherry-stones did play,
Till he amongst those gamesters young
Had lost his stock away.
Yet could he soon renew the same,
Whereas most nimbly he
Would dive into their cherry-bags,
And their partaker be,
Unseen or felt by any one,
Until this scholar shut
This nimble youth into a box,
Wherein his pins he put.
Of whom to be reveng'd, he took,
In mirth and pleasant game,
Black pots and glasses, which he hung
Upon a bright sun-beam.
The other boys to do the like,
In pieces broke them quite;
For which they were most soundly whipt;
Whereat he laughed outright.
And so Tom Thumb restrained was,
From these his sports and play;
And by his mother after that,
Compell'd at home to stay.
Until such time his mother went
A-milking of her kine;
Where Tom unto a thistle fast
She linked with a twine.
A thread that held him to the same,
For fear the blustering wind
Should blow him hence,--that so she might
Her son in safety find.
But mark the hap! a cow came by,
And up the thistle eat;
Poor Tom withal, that, as a dock,
Was made the red cow's meat.
Who, being miss'd, his mother went
Him calling everywhere;
Where art thou, Tom? Where art thou, Tom?
Quoth he, here, mother, here!
Within the red cow's stomach here,
Your son is swallowed up:
The which into her fearful heart,
Most careful dolours put.
Meanwhile the cow was troubled much,
And soon releas'd Tom Thumb;
No rest she had till out her mouth,
In bad plight he did come.
Now after this, in sowing time,
His father would him have
Into the field to drive his plough,
And thereupon him gave--
A whip made of a barley-straw,
To drive the cattle on;
Where, in a furrow'd land new sown,
Poor Tom was lost and gone.
Now by a raven of great strength,
Away he thence was borne,
And carried in the carrion's beak,
Even like a grain of corn,
Unto a giant's castle top,
In which he let him fall;
Where soon the giant swallowed up
His body, clothes, and all.
But soon the giant spat him out,
Three miles into the sea;
Whereas a fish soon took him up,
And bore him thence away.
Which lusty fish was after caught,
And to king Arthur sent;
Where Tom was found, and made his dwarf,
Whereas his days he spent.
Long time in lively jollity,
Belov'd of all the court;
And none like Tom was then esteem'd,
Among the noble sort.
Amongst his deeds of courtship done,
His highness did command,
That he should dance a galliard brave
Upon his queen's left hand.
The which he did, and for the same
The king his signet gave,
Which Tom about his middle wore,
Long time a girdle brave.
How, after this, the king would not
Abroad for pleasure go
But still Tom Thumb must ride with him,
Placed on his saddle-bow.
Whereon a time when, as it rain'd,
Tom Thumb most nimbly crept
In at a button-hole, where he
Within his bosom slept.
And being near his highness' heart,
He crav'd a wealthy boon,
A liberal gift, the which the king
Commanded to be done.
For to relieve his father's wants,
And mother's, being old;
Which was, so much of silver coin
As well his arms could hold.
And so away goes lusty Tom,
With threepence on his back,
A heavy burthen, which might make
His wearied limbs to crack.
So travelling two days and nights,
With labour and great pain,
He came into the house whereat
His parents did remain;
Which was but half a mile in space
From good king Arthur's court,
The which, in eight and forty hours,
He went in weary sort.
But coming to his father's door,
He there such entrance had
As made his parents both rejoice,
And he thereat was glad.
His mother in her apron took
Her gentle son in haste,
And by the fire-side, within
A walnut-shell him placed;
Whereas they feasted him three days
Upon a hazel-nut,
Whereon he rioted so long,
He them to charges put;
And thereupon grew wond'rous sick,
Through eating too much meat,
Which was sufficient for a month
For this great man to eat.
But now his business call'd him forth
King Arthur's court to see,
Whereas no longer from the same
He could a stranger be.
But yet a few small April drops
Which settled in the way,
His long and weary journey forth
Did hinder and so stay.
Until his careful father took
A birding trunk in sport,
And with one blast, blew this his son
Into king Arthur's court.
Now he with tilts and tournaments
Was entertained so,
That all the best of Arthur's knights
Did him much pleasure show:
As good Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Sir Tristain, and Sir Guy;
Yet none compar'd with brave Tom Thumb
For knightly chivalry.
In honour of which noble day,
And for his lady's sake,
A challenge in king Arthur's court
Tom Thumb did bravely make.
'Gainst whom these noble knights did run,
Sir Chinon and the rest,
Yet still Tom Thumb, with matchless might,
Did bear away the best.
At last Sir Lancelot du Lake
In manly sort came in,
And with this stout and hardy knight
A battle did begin.
Which made the courtiers all aghast,
For there that valiant man,
Through Lancelot's steed, before them all,
In nimble manner ran.
Yea, horse and all, with spear and shield,
As hardy he was seen,
But only by king Arthur's self
And his admired queen;
Who from her finger took a ring,
Through which Tom Thumb made way,
Not touching it, in nimble sort,
As it was done in play.
He likewise cleft the smallest hair
From his fair lady's head,
Not hurting her whose even hand
Him lasting honours bred.
Such were his deeds and noble acts
In Arthur's court there shone,
As like in all the world beside
Was hardly seen or known.
Now at these sports he toil'd himself,
That he a sickness took,
Through which all manly exercise
He carelessly forsook.
When lying on his bed sore sick,
King Arthur's doctor came,
With cunning skill, by physic's art,
To ease and cure the same.
His body being so slender small,
This cunning doctor took
A fine perspective glass, with which
He did in secret look--
Into his sickened body down,
And therein saw that Death
Stood ready in his wasted frame
To cease his vital breath.
His arms and legs consum'd as small
As was a spider's web,
Through which his dying hour grew on,
For all his limbs grew dead.
His face no bigger than an ant's,
Which hardly could be seen;
The loss of which renowned knight
Much grieved the king and queen.
And so with peace and quietness
He left this earth below;
And up into the fairy-land
His ghost did fading go,
Whereas the fairy-queen receiv'd,
With heavy mourning cheer,
The body of this valiant knight,
Whom she esteem'd so dear.
For with her dancing nymphs in green,
She fetch'd him from his bed,
With music and sweet melody,
So soon as life was fled;
For whom king Arthur and his knights
Full forty days did mourn;
And, in remembrance of his name,
That was so strangely born--
He built a tomb of marble gray,
And year by year did come
To celebrate ye mournful death
And burial of Tom Thumb.
Whose fame still lives in England here,
Amongst the country sort;
Of whom our wives and children small
Tell tales of pleasant sport.
[Footnote *: "I have an old edition of this author by me, the
title of which is more sonorous and heroical than those of
later date, which, for the better information of the reader,
it may not be improper to insert in this place, 'Tom Thumb his
Life and Death; wherein is declar'd his many marvellous Acts
of Manhood, full of wonder and strange merriment.' Then he
adds, 'Which little Knight liv'd in King Arthur's time, in the
court of Great Britain.' Indeed, there are so many spurious
editions of this piece upon one account or other, that I wou'd
advise my readers to be very cautious in their choice."--_A
Comment upon the History of T. T._ 1711. A "project for the
reprinting of Tom Thumb, with marginal notes and cuts," is
mentioned in the old play of _The Projectours_, 1665, p. 41.]
LXII.
[The following lines, slightly altered, occur in a little
black-letter book by W. Wagner, printed about the year 1561;
entitled, 'A very mery and pythie commedie, called, the longer
thou livest, the more foole thou art.' See also a whole
song, ending with these lines, in Ritson's 'North Country
Chorister,' 8vo, Durham, 1802, p. 1.]
Bryan O'Lin, and his wife, and wife's mother,
They all went over a bridge together:
The bridge was broken, and they all fell in,
The deuce go with all! quoth Bryan O'Lin.
LXIII.
Old Mother Goose, when
She wanted to wander,
Would ride through the air
On a very fine gander.
Mother Goose had a house,
'Twas built in a wood,
Where an owl at the door
For sentinel stood.
This is her son Jack,
A plain-looking lad,
He is not very good,
Nor yet very bad.
She sent him to market,
A live goose he bought,
Here, mother, says he,
It will not go for nought.
Jack's goose and her gander,
Grew very fond;
They'd both eat together,
Or swim in one pond.
Jack found one morning,
As I have been told,
His goose had laid him
An egg of pure gold.
Jack rode to his mother,
The news for to tell,
She call'd him a good boy,
And said it was well.
Jack sold his gold egg
To a rogue of a Jew,
Who cheated him out of
The half of his due.
Then Jack went a courting,
A lady so gay,
As fair as the lily,
And sweet as the May.
The Jew and the Squire
Came behind his back,
And began to belabour
The sides of poor Jack.
The old Mother Goose,
That instant came in,
And turned her son Jack
Into fam'd Harlequin.
She then with her wand,
Touch'd the lady so fine,
And turn'd her at once
Into sweet Columbine.
The gold egg into the sea
Was thrown then,--
When Jack jump'd in,
And got the egg back again.
The Jew got the goose,
Which he vow'd he would kill,
Resolving at once
His pockets to fill.
Jack's mother came in,
And caught the goose soon,
And mounting its back,
Flew up to the moon.
LXIV.
I'll tell you a story
About Jack a Nory,--
And now my story's begun:
I'll tell you another
About Jack his brother,--
And now my story's done.
LXV.
[The "foles of Gotham" are mentioned as early as the fifteenth
century in the 'Townley Mysteries;' and, at the commencement
of the sixteenth century, Dr. Andrew Borde made a collection
of stories about them, not however, including the following,
which rests on the authority of nursery tradition.]
Three wise men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl:
And if the bowl had been stronger,
My song would have been longer.
LXVI.
[The following two stanzas, although they belong to the same
piece, are often found separated from each other.]
Robin and Richard were two pretty men;
They laid in bed till the clock struck ten;
Then up starts Robin, and looks at the sky,
Oh! brother Richard, the sun's very high:
The bull's in the barn threshing the corn,
The cock's on the dunghill blowing his horn,
The cat's at the fire frying of fish,
The dog's in the pantry breading his dish.
LXVII.
My lady Wind, my lady Wind,
Went round about the house to find
A chink to get her foot in:
She tried the key-hole in the door,
She tried the crevice in the floor,
And drove the chimney soot in.
And then one night when it was dark,
She blew up such a tiny spark,
That all the house was pothered:
From it she raised up such a flame,
As flamed away to Belting Lane,
And White Cross folks were smothered.
And thus when once, my little dears,
A whisper reaches itching ears,
The same will come, you'll find:
Take my advice, restrain the tongue,
Remember what old nurse has sung
Of busy lady Wind!
LXVIII.
Old Abram Brown is dead and gone,
You'll never see him more;
He used to wear a long brown coat,
That button'd down before.
LXIX.
A dog and a cock,
A journey once took,
They travell'd along till 'twas late;
The dog he made free
In the hollow of a tree,
And the cock on the boughs of it sate.
The cock nothing knowing,
In the morn fell a crowing,
Upon which comes a fox to the tree;
Says he, I declare,
Your voice is above,
All the creatures I ever did see.
Oh! would you come down
I the fav'rite might own,
Said the cock, there's a porter below;
If you will go in,
I promise I'll come down.
So he went--and was worried for it too.
LXX.
Little Tom Tittlemouse,
Lived in a bell-house;
The bell-house broke,
And Tom Tittlemouse woke.
[Illustration]
LXXI.
Tommy kept a chandler's shop,
Richard went to buy a mop,
Tommy gave him such a knock,
That sent him out of his chandler's shop,
LXXII.
When I was a little girl, about seven years old,
I hadn't got a petticoat, to cover me from the cold;
So I went into Darlington, that pretty little town,
And there I bought a petticoat, a cloak, and a gown.
I went into the woods and built me a kirk,
And all the birds of the air, they helped me to work;
The hawk with his long claws pulled down the stone,
The dove, with her rough bill, brought me them home;
The parrot was the clergyman, the peacock was the clerk,
The bullfinch play'd the organ, and we made merry work.
LXXIII.
Pemmy was a pretty girl,
But Fanny was a better;
Pemmy looked like any churl,
When little Fanny let her.
Pemmy had a pretty nose,
But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy oft would come to blows,
But Fanny would not let her.
Pemmy had a pretty doll,
But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy chatter'd like a poll,
When little Fanny let her.
Pemmy had a pretty song,
But Fanny had a better;
Pemmy would sing all day long,
But Fanny would not let her.
Pemmy lov'd a pretty lad,
And Fanny lov'd a better;
And Pemmy wanted for to wed,
But Fanny would not let her.
LXXIV.
[A tale for the 1st of March.]
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief;
Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef:
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not at home;
Taffy came to my house and stole a marrow-bone.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was not in;
Taffy came to my house and stole a silver pin:
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was in bed,
I took up a poker and flung it at his head.
LXXV.
[The tale of Jack Horner has long been appropriated to the
nursery. The four lines which follow are the traditional ones,
and they form part of 'The pleasant History of Jack Horner,
containing his witty Tricks and pleasant Pranks, which he
plaied from his Youth to his riper Years,' 12mo, a copy of
which is in the Bodleian Library, and this extended story
is in substance the same with 'The Fryer and the Boy,' 12mo,
Lond. 1617, and both of them are taken from the more ancient
story of 'Jack and his Step-dame,' which has been printed by
Mr. Wright.]
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I!"
LXXVI.