The Nursery Rhyme Book
XIII. Accumulative Stories
THIS is the house that Jack built.2. This is the maltThat lay in the house that Jack built.3. This is the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.4. This is the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.5. This is the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.6. This is the cow with the crumpled horn,That toss'd the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.7. This is the maiden all forlorn,That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.8. This is the man all tatter'd and torn,That kissed the maiden all forlorn,That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.9. This is the priest all shaven and shorn,That married the man all tatter'd and torn,That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.10. This is the cock that crow'd in the morn,That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,That married the man all tatter'd and torn,That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.11. This is the farmer sowing his corn,That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,That married the man all tatter'd and torn,That kissed the maiden all forlorn,That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,That kill'd the rat,That ate the malt,That lay in the house that Jack built.AN old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a little crooked sixpence. "What," said she, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I will go to market, and buy a little pig."
As she was coming home, she came to a stile; but the pig would not go over the stile.
She went a little farther, and she met a dog. So she said to the dog —
"Dog, dog, bite pig!Pig won't get over the stile;And I shan't get home to-night."But the dog would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a stick. So she said —
"Stick, stick, beat dog!Dog won't bite pig?Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the stick would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a fire. So she said —
"Fire, fire, burn stick!Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the fire would not.
She went a little farther, and she met some water. So she said —
"Water, water, quench fire!Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the water would not.
She went a little farther, and she met an ox. So she said —
"Ox, ox, drink water!Water won't quench fire;Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the ox would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a butcher. So she said —
"Butcher, butcher, kill ox!Ox won't drink water;Water won't quench fire;Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the butcher would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a rope. So she said —
"Rope, rope, hang butcher!Butcher won't kill ox;Ox won't drink water;Water won't quench fire;Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the rope would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a rat. So she said —
"Rat, rat, gnaw rope!Rope won't hang butcher;Butcher won't kill ox;Ox won't drink water;Water won't quench fire;Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."But the rat would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a cat. So she said —
"Cat, cat, kill rat;Rat won't gnaw rope;Rope won't hang butcher;Butcher won't kill ox;Ox won't drink water;Water won't quench fire;Fire won't burn stick;Stick won't beat dog;Dog won't bite pig;Pig won't get over the stile,And I shan't get home to-night."The cat said, "If you will give me a saucer of milk, I will kill the rat."
So the old woman gave the cat the milk, and when she had lapped up the milk —
The cat began to kill the rat;The rat began to gnaw the rope;The rope began to hang the butcher;The butcher began to kill the ox;The ox began to drink the water;The water began to quench the fire;The fire began to burn the stick;The stick began to beat the dog;The dog began to bite the pig;The pig jumped over the stile,And so the old woman got home that night.THIS is the key of the kingdom.In that kingdom there is a city.In that city there is a town.In that town there is a street.In that street there is a lane.In that lane there is a yard.In that yard there is a house.In that house there is a room.In that room there is a bed.On that bed there is a basket.In that basket there are some flowers.Flowers in the basket, basket in the bed, bed in the room, &c. &c.XIV. Relics
WILLY boy, Willy boy, where are you going?I'll go with you, if I may."I'm going to the meadow to see them a mowing;I'm going to help them, make hay."THE girl in the lane, that couldn't speak plain,Cried, "Gobble, gobble, gobble."The man on the hill, that couldn't stand still,Went hobble, hobble, hobble.HINK, minx! the old witch winks,The fat begins to fry:There's nobody at home but little jumping Joan,Father, mother, and I.HANNAH BANTRY in the pantry,Eating a mutton bone;How she gnawed it, how she clawed it,When she found she was alone!LITTLE Miss MuffetSat on a tuffet,Eating of curds and whey;There came a spider,And sat down beside her,And frightened Miss Muffet away.WHAT are little boys made of, made of;What are little boys made of?"Snaps and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails;And that's what little boys are made of, made of."What are little girls made of, made of, made of;What are little girls made of?"Sugar and spice, and all that's nice;And that's what little girls are made of, made of."WHAT'S the news of the day,Good neighbour, I pray?"They say the balloonIs gone up to the moon."KING'S SUTTON is a pretty town,And lies all in a valley;There is a pretty ring of bells,Besides a bowling-alley:Wine and liquor in good store,Pretty maidens plenty;Can a man desire more?There ain't such a town in twenty.COME, let's to bed,Says Sleepy-head;"Tarry a while," says Slow;"Put on the pot,"Says Greedy-gut,"Let's sup before we go."Girls and boys, come out to play;The moon doth shine as bright as day;Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,And come with your playfellows into the street.Come with a whoop, come with a call,Come with a good will or not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A halfpenny roll will serve us all.You find milk, and I'll find flour,And we'll have a pudding in half-an-hour.HOW many days has my baby to play?Saturday, Sunday, Monday,Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,Saturday, Sunday, Monday.AROUND the green gravel the grass grows green,And all the pretty maids are plain to be seen;Wash them with milk, and clothe them with silk,And write their names with a pen and ink.AS I was going to sell my eggs,I met a man with bandy legs,Bandy legs and crooked toes;I tripped up his heels, and he fell on his nose.MY little old man and I fell out;I'll tell you what 'twas all about:I had money, and he had none,And that's the way the row begun.DAFFY-Down-Dilly has come up to townIn a yellow petticoat and a green gown.DARBY and Joan were dress'd in black,Sword and buckle behind their back;Foot for foot, and knee for knee,Turn about Darby's company.IF all the seas were one sea,What a great sea that would be!And if all the trees were one tree,What a great tree that would be!And if all the axes were one axe,What a great axe that would be!And if all the men were one man,What a great man he would be!And if the great man took the great axe,And cut down the great tree,And let it fall into the great sea,What a splish splash that would be!RAIN, rain, go away;Come again another day;Little Arthur wants to play.BARBER, barber, shave a pig;How many hairs will make a wig?"Four-and-twenty, that's enough:"Give the barber a pinch of snuff.LITTLE Tom TuckerSings for his supper;What shall he eat?White bread and butter.How shall he cut it,Without e'er a knife?How will he be marriedWithout e'er a wife?WHO comes here?"A grenadier.""What do you want?""A pot of beer.""Where is your money?""I've forgot.""Get you gone,You drunken sot!"TO market, to market, to buy a plum-cake;Back again, back again, baby is late;To market, to market, to buy a plum-bun,Back again, back again, market is done.BLOW, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!That the miller may grind his corn;That the baker may take it,And into rolls make it,And send us some hot in the morn.A MAN went a hunting at Reigate,And wished to leap over a high gate;Says the owner, "Go round,With your gun and your hound,For you never shall leap over my gate."THERE was a little nobby colt,His name was Nobby Gray;His head was made of pouce straw,His tail was made of hay.He could ramble, he could trot,He could carry a mustard-pot,Round the town of Woodstock,Hey, Jenny, hey! WE'RE all in the dumps,For diamonds are trumps;The kittens are gone to St. Paul's!The babies are bit,The moon's in a fit,And the houses are built without walls.Notes
THE origin of the right nursery rhymes is, of course, popular, like the origin of ballads, tales (Märchen), riddles, proverbs, and, indeed, of literature in general. They are probably, in England, of no great antiquity, except in certain cases, where they supply the words to some child's ballet, some dance game. A game may be of prehistoric antiquity, as appears in the rudimentary forms of backgammon, Pachin and Patullo, common to Asia, and to the Aztecs, as Dr. Tylor has demonstrated. The child's game —
"Buck, buck,How many fingers do I hold up?"was known in ancient Rome as bucca, though it would be audacious to infer that it arrived in Britain since the Norman Conquest. Hop-scotch is also exceedingly ancient, and the curious will find the theories of its origin in Mr. Gomme's learned work on Children's Dances and Songs, published by the Folk-Lore Society. Dr. Nicholson's book on the Folk-Lore of Children in Sutherland, still unpublished when I write, may also be consulted. One of the songs collected by Dr. Nicholson was copied down by a Danish traveller in London during the reign of Charles II. Robert Chambers's "Popular Rhymes of Scotland" is also a treasure of this kind of antiquities. It is probable that the Lowland rhymes have occasionally Gaelic counterparts, as the nursery tales certainly have, but I am unacquainted with any researches on this topic by Celtic scholars.
In Mr. Halliwell's Collection, from which this volume is abridged, no manuscript authority goes further back than the reign of Henry VIII., though King Arthur and Robin Hood are mentioned. The obscure Scottish taunt, levelled at Edward I. when besieging Berwick, is much in the manner of a nursery rhyme: —
"Kyng Edward,When thu havest Berwic,Pike thee!When thu havest geton,Dike thee!"This, as Sir Herbert Maxwell says, "seems deficient in salt," but was felt to be irritating by the greatest of the Plantagenets. The jingles on the King of France, against the Scots in the time of James I., against the Tory, or Irish rapparee, and about the Gunpowder Plot, are of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The Great Rebellion supplies "Hector Protector" and "The Parliament soldiers are gone to the king;" "Over the water and over the sea" (or lee) is a parody of a Jacobite ditty of 1748, and refers genially to that love of ale and wine which Prince Charles displayed as early as he showed military courage, at the age of fourteen, when he distinguished himself at the siege of Gaeta. His grandfather, James II., lives in "The rhyme for porringer;" his father in "Jim and George were two great lords." Tout finit par des chansons.
Of non-historical jingles, Mr. Halliwell found traces in MSS. as old as the fifteenth century. But it would be a very rare accident that led to their being written down when nobody dreamed of studying Folk-Lore with solemnity. "Thirty days hath September" occurs in the "Return from Parnassus," of Shakspeare's date, and a few snatches, like "When I was a little boy," occur in Shakspeare himself, just as a German version of "My Minnie me slew" comes in Goethe's Faust. Indeed, the scraps of magical versified spells in Märchen are entirely of the character of nursery rhymes, and are of dateless antiquity. The rhyme of "Dr. Faustus" may be nearly as old as the mediæval legend dramatised by Marlowe. The Elizabethan and Jacobean dramatists put nursery rhymes in the mouths of characters; a few jingles creep into the Miscellanies, such as "The Pills to purge Melancholy." Among these (1719) is "Tom the piper's son," who played "Over the hills and far away," a song often adapted to Jacobite uses. In 1719, when the Spanish plan of aid to James III. collapsed, pipers must have been melancholy enough.
Melismata (1611) already knows the "Frog who lived in a well," and in Deuteromelia (1609) occurs the "Three blind mice." On the Riddles, or Devinettes, chapters might be, and have been written. They go back to Samson's time, at least, and are as widely distributed as proverbs, even among Wolufs and Fijians. The most recent discussion is in Mr. Max Müller's "Contributions to the Science of Mythology" (1897). For using "charms," like "Come, butter, come," many an old woman was burned by the wisdom of our ancestors. Such versified charms, deducunt carmima lunam, are the karakias of the Maoris, and the mantras of Indian superstition. The magical papyri of ancient Egypt are full of them. In our own rhyme, "Hiccup," regarded as a personal kind of fiend ("Animism"), is charmed away by a promise of a butter-cake. There is a collection of such things in Reginald Scot's "Discovery of Witchcraft." Thus our old nursery rhymes are smooth stones from the brook of time, worn round by constant friction of tongues long silent. We cannot hope to make new nursery rhymes, any more than we can write new fairy tales.
1
The boys are sons of Charles II. The pious brother is James, Duke of York.
2
Merry.
3
The pod or shell of a pea.
