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CHAPTER V
RHYMES AND BALLADS

VARIOUS nursery pieces deal with material which forms the subject of romantic ballads also. Romantic ballads, like popular songs, are preserved in a number of variations, for they were sung again and again to suit the modified taste of succeeding ages. Many romantic ballads retain much that is pre-Christian in disposition and sentiment. The finest collection of romantic ballads during recent times was made by Child,²⁴ who included the fireside versions of ballads that have come down to us through nursery literature. Child puts forward the opinion that where we are in possession of a romantic and a fireside version of the same ballad, the latter is a late and degraded survival. But this hardly seems probable, considering that the nursery version of the tale is usually simpler in form, and often consists of dialogue only.

In the estimation of Gregory Smith, the oldest extant examples of romantic ballads "do not date further back than the second and third quarter of the fifteenth century" (that is between 1425 and 1475), "since the way in which the incidents in these are presented, reflects the taste of that age."²⁵ This applies to romantic ballads that are highly complex in form. The fireside version of the same story may have flowed from the same source. The question hangs together with that of the origin of the ballad, which may have arisen in connection with dancing and singing, but the subject needs investigation.

Among our famous early ballads is that of The Elfin Knight, the oldest printed copy of which is of 1670.

It begins as follows: —

 
My plaid awa', my plaid awa',
And o'er the hill and far awa',
And far awa' to Norrowa,
 
 
My plaid shall not be blown awa'.
The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba,
He blaws his horn both loud and shrill,
The wind has blawn my plaid awa',
He blows it east, he blows it west,
He blows it where he liketh best.²⁶
 

The ballad goes on to describe how problems were bandied between the Elfin Knight and a lady. The one on whom an impossible task was imposed stood acquitted if he devised a task of no less difficulty, which must first be performed by his opponent. Such flytings go far back in literature. In this case the Elfin Knight staked his plaid, that is his life, on receiving the favour of the lady, and he propounded to her three problems, viz. of making a sack without a seam, of washing it in a well without water, and of hanging it to dry on a tree that never blossomed. In reply, she claimed that he should plough an acre of land with a ram's horn, that he should sow it with a peppercorn, and that he should reap it with a sickle of leather. The problems perhaps had a recondite meaning, and the ballad-monger probably found them ready to hand. For Child cites a version of the ballad in which the same flyting took place between a woman and "the auld, auld man," who threatened to take her as his own, and who turned out to be Death. The idea of a wooer staking his life on winning a lady is less primitive than that of Death securing a victim.

The same tasks without their romantic setting are preserved in the form of a simple dialogue, in the nursery collections of c. 1783 and 1810. In this case also it is the question of a wooer.

Man speaks

 
Can you make me a cambrick shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Without any seam or needlework?
And you shall be a true lover of mine.
Can you wash it in yonder well? Parsley, etc.,
Where never spring water or rain ever fell.
Can you dry it on yonder thorn,
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?
 

Maiden speaks

 
Now you have asked me questions three,
I hope you will answer as many for me.
Can you find me an acre of land,
Between the salt water and the sea sand?
 
 
Can you plow it with a ram's horn,
And sow it all over with peppercorn?
Can you reap it with a sickle of leather,
And bind it up with a peacock's feather?
 
 
When you have done and finished your work,
Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.
 

(c. 1783, p. 10.)

On the face of it, it hardly seems likely that this version is descended from the romantic ballad.

The tasks that are here imposed on the man are set also in the form of a boast in a nursery song, in which they have so entirely lost their meaning as to represent a string of impossibilities.

 
My father left me three acres of land,
Sing sing, sing sing,
My father left me three acres of land,
Sing holly, go whistle and sing.
I ploughed it with a ram's horn,
And sowed it with one pepper corn.
I harrowed it with a bramble bush,
And reaped it with a little pen knife.
I got the mice to carry it to the mill,
And thrashed it with a goose's quill.
I got the cat to carry it to the mill,
The miller swore he would have her paw,
And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.
 

(N. & Q., VII. 8.)

Another nursery piece is recorded by Halliwell which, in simple form relates concerning Billy my son the sequence of events which underlies the famous romantic ballad of Lord Randal.²⁷ The story is current also in Scotland relating to The Croodin Doo (1870, p. 51); it was told also some eighty years ago in Lincolnshire, of King Henry my son (N. & Q., 8, VI, 427). The romantic ballad in five verses, as told of Lairde Rowlande, relates how he came from the woods weary with hunting and expecting death. He had been at his true love's, where he ate of the food which poisoned his warden and his dogs. In the nursery version the tragedy is told in the following simple form: —

 
Where have you been to-day, Billy my son?
Where have you been to-day, my only man? —
I've been a wooing, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lie down.
 
 
What have you ate to-day, Billy my son?
What have you ate to-day, my only man? —
I've eat eel pie, mother; make my bed soon,
For I am sick at heart, and shall die before noon.
 

(1849, p. 259.)

Other nursery pieces deal with Tommy Linn, the Tam Linn of romance, who is the hero of many famous romantic ballads. The name of Tam Linn goes some way back in history. For the Tayl of young Tamlene, according to Vedderburn's Complaint of Scotland, of 1549, was told among a company of shepherds, and the name appears also as that of a dance, A Ballett of Thomalyn, as far back as 1558.²⁸

According to the romantic ballads, Tam Linn fell under the influence of the fairies through sleeping under an apple tree, and they threatened to take him back as their own on Hallowe'en, when they rode abroad once in seven years and had the right to claim their due. Tam Linn told the woman who loved him that she must hold him fast, whatever shape he assumed owing to the enchantment of the witches, and that she must cast him into water as soon as he assumed the shape of a gled. He would then be restored to human form.

Tam Linn of romance figures in nursery lore as Tommy Linn. His exploits were printed by Halliwell in one of the numerous versions that are current in the north. In these pieces Tommy Linn has only this in common with Tam Linn of romance, that he too is ready with a suggestion whatever mishap befalls.

 
Tommy Linn is a Scotchman born,
His head is bald and his beard is shorn;
He has a cap made of a hare skin,
An alderman is Tommy Linn.
 
 
Tommy Linn has no boots to put on,
But two calves' skins and the hair it was on.
They are open at the side and the water goes in,
Unwholesome boots, says Tommy Linn.
 
 
Tommy Linn had no bridle to put on,
But two mouse's tails that he put on.
Tommy Linn had no saddle to put on,
But two urchins' skins and them he put on.
 
 
Tommy Linn's daughter sat on the stair,
O dear father, gin I be not fair?
The stairs they broke and she fell in,
You're fair enough now, says Tommy Linn.
 
 
Tommy Linn had no watch to put on,
So he scooped out a turnip to make himself one;
He caught a cricket and put it within,
It's my own ticker, says Tommy Linn.
 
 
Tommy Linn, his wife, and wife's mother,
They all fell into the fire together;
Oh, said the topmost, I've got a hot skin,
It's hotter below, says Tommy Linn.
 

(1849, p. 271.)

Several short nursery rhymes are taken from this, or other versions of this poem. Among the pieces printed by Chambers we read —

 
Tam o' the Lin and his bairns,
Fell i' the fire in others' arms!
Oh, quo' the bunemost, I ha'e a hot skin!!
It's hotter below, quo' Tam o' the Lin!!!
 

(1870, p. 33.)

Sir Walter Scott in Redgauntlet cites a catch on Sir Thom o' Lyne.

In some nursery collections the adventures of Tommy Lin, the Scotchman, are appropriated to Bryan O'Lin, the Irishman.

 
Bryan O'Lin had no watch to put on,
So he scooped out a turnip to make himself one:
He caught a cricket and put it within,
And called it a ticker, did Bryan O'Lin.
 
 
Bryan O'Lin had no breeches to wear,
So he got a sheepskin to make him a pair:
With the skinny side out and the woolly side in,
Oh! how nice and warm, cried Bryan O'Lin.
 

(1842, p. 212.)

Many nursery rhymes which dwell on cats are formed on the model of these verses. A rhyme that comes from America is as follows: —

 
Kit and Kitterit and Kitterit's mother,
All went over the bridge together.
The bridge broke down, they all fell in,
"Good luck to you," says Tom Bolin.
 

A modern collection of rhymes (1873, p. 136) gives this as follows: —

 
The two grey cats and the grey kits' mother,
All went over the bridge together;
The bridge broke down, they all fell in,
May the rats go with you, sings Tom Bowlin.
 

The association of cats with Tommy Linn reappears in the rhyme in which Tommy, who in the romantic ballad begged immersion for himself, practised immersion on a cat. Perhaps the cat was figured as a witch, who, being suspected, was cast into the water in order to prove her witchcraft.

 
Ding dong bell, poor pussy has fall'n i' th' well,
Who threw her in? Little Tom O' Linne,
What a naughty boy was that
To drown poor pussy cat,
That never did any harm,
But catch'd a mouse i' th' barn.
 

(1797, cited by Rimbault.)

Other variations of this rhyme mention Johnny Green (c. 1783, p. 23) and Tommy Quin (Rusher), which, considering the relative antiquity of Tommy Linn, are obvious degradations of this name.

The rhyme in some collections is quoted in an enlarged form: —

 
Who put her in? Little Tommy Lin,
Who pulled her out? Little Tommy [or Dickey] Stout.
 

I have heard also: —

 
Who put her in? Little Tommy Thin.
Who pulled her out? Little Tommy Stout.
 

Stout is perhaps a traditional name. For it occurs in the nursery piece on the old woman who went to sleep out of doors and forgot her identity. I know no earlier version of this piece in English than the one recorded by Rimbault which begins:

 
There was a little woman as I've heard tell,
Who went to market her eggs for to sell.
 

It further relates how she went to sleep out of doors, how the man Stout "cut her petticoats round about," and how on waking she did not know herself, and decided to go home and find out if her dog knew her (1864, p. 6). But the story is an old one, for we come across it in Grimm's Fairy Tales, where it forms a sequel to "Kluge Else," (No. 35). In this the part of Stout is taken by the woman's husband, who hung her skirt about with bells, and it is further stated that the woman fell asleep when she was cutting corn. The same story in a more interesting form was recovered in Norway. Here we read that the woman fell asleep while she was cutting hemp, which explains why her mind failed her. For hemp newly cut has strongly narcotic properties. It was probably the herb which the witches smoked in their diminutive clay-pipes in pre-Christian times. Presumably on account of these narcotic properties sowing and cutting of hemp were associated all over Europe with peculiar dances, such as Enfille aiguille, our Thread-the-Needle. Its connection with heathen rites of divination is suggested by the well-known rhyme: —

 
Hemp-seed I set, hemp-seed I sow,
The young man whom I love,
Come after me and mow.
 

(1890, p. 414.)

In this form the rhyme is also cited in Mother Bunch's Closet newly broke open, as a charm to secure the vision of one's future husband.

CHAPTER VI
RHYMES AND COUNTRY DANCES

MANY true nursery rhymes go back to traditional dancing and singing games which are now relegated to the playground, but which were danced by rustics within the memory of man, and which are heirs to the choral dances of our heathen forefathers. For dancing in its origin was no idle and unmeaning pastime. Dances were undertaken for serious purposes, such as warding off evil and promoting agricultural growth, conceptions which hang closely together. These dances formed part of festivities that took place at certain times of the year. They were accompanied by expressive words, and by actions which were suited to the words, and which gave the dance a dramatic character. Our carol is related to the caraula that was prohibited among heathen customs by Bishop Eligius of Noyon (d. 659), in the north of France in the seventh century, and has the same origin as the Choreia of the Greeks, the reihe or reigen of Germany, the karol of Brittany, and the caraula of eastern Switzerland. In course of time the religious significance of the choral dance was lost and its practice survived as a sport. At a later stage still, it became a pastime of children and a diversion of the ballroom.

Among the dances that can be traced back through several stages, is the one which in its latest survival is known as the Cotillon. This is mentioned in England as far back as the year 1766. Burns in Tam o' Shanter speaks of it as "brand new from France." The peculiar features of the Cotillon as it is danced nowadays, include free choice of partners, the women being at liberty in one figure to choose the men, the drawing into the dance of the assembled company, and the presence of a cushion which is put to a variety of uses. The Cotillon usually concludes the ball.

In an earlier form the Cotillon is represented by the dance which was known in the seventeenth century as Joan Saunderson or the Cushion Dance. The way of dancing Joan Saunderson is described in The Dauncing Master, a collection of dances with tunes for young people, published by H. Playford. Of this the first volume was issued in 1650, which was enlarged in subsequent editions, when further volumes were added. The Dauncing Master of Playford shows how traditional country dances were appropriated to the ballroom, for many of these dance tunes, such as Mulberry Bush, and Green Sleeves, correspond with the names of traditional dancing and singing games.

In Joan Saunderson or the Cushion Dance as described by Playford,²⁹ a cushion and a drinking-horn were brought in by two dancers to the sound of a fiddle. The cushion-bearer locked the door and pocketed the key, and danced round the room alone. Then he exchanged words with the fiddler as to the need of finding a maid and pressing her into the dance. The name Joan Saunderson being proposed, the cushion-bearer placed the cushion before the woman of his choice, and knelt upon it. She did the same, and drank from the horn. They kissed and danced together. The same ceremony was then gone through by the girl, who, when the name John Saunderson was proposed, approached the man of her choice bearing the cushion, the first dancer accompanying her. The ceremony was repeated again and again, alternately by man and woman, and as each dancer chose a partner, the number of those following the cushion-bearer increased. Finally the whole assembled company were drawn into the ring.

A scene in Joan Saunderson is said to be represented in a Dutch engraving of the year 1624 (1876, p. 254). Joan Saunderson is still danced in different parts of the country under the same or some similar name. In Derbyshire it is known as the Cushion Dance, and those who are drawn into the ring are addressed as John Sanders and Jane Sanders. In the Lowlands the dance is known as Babbity Bowster, bowster standing for bolster; in the north it is the Whishin Dance, whishin standing for cushion (1894, I, pp. 9, 87). The Cushion Dance was the last dance that was danced at a wedding,³⁰ and at Northampton it came at the conclusion of the May-Day festival (1876, p. 253).

In the Cotillon of the ballroom, the ring finally breaks up and the company dances in couples; the Cushion Dance leads up to the withdrawal of the married pair, and concludes with a romp. A later edition of The Dauncing Master (1698, p. 7), perhaps with a view to forestalling this, adds a sequel to the dance, according to which the game, after it had been wound, was unwound, that is, each dancer in turn bade farewell to his partner, and after doing so left the room.

The points of likeness between the Cotillon and the Cushion Dance are such as to favour the belief that they are connected. The free choice of partners, the presence of the cushion, the drawing in of the whole assembled company, and the fact that the dance terminates the ball, are peculiar to them both. The Cushion Dance being the older sport, preserves the association with weddings and with the May-Day festival, which at one time was the occasion for mating and marriage.

The associations with mating and marriage are preserved also in a traditional game that is still played throughout the greater part of England, which is generally known as Sally Waters. The verses recited in playing it render it probable that the Cushion Dance is a later development of the game known as Sally Waters.

In playing Sally Waters the players stand in a ring, a boy and a girl alternately choose a partner and seal the bond by joining hands, or by kneeling, or by a kiss. The verses recited in playing the game were first recorded by Halliwell (1849, p. 133). Forty-nine further variations, used in different parts of the kingdom in playing the game, have been printed by Mrs. Gomme, who classed this among marriage games, (1894, II, 461). In the book of Playford the Cushion Dance is called also Joan Saunderson, and those who are pressed into the dance are designated as Joan Saunderson and John Saunderson, or as Jane Sanders and John Sanders. In playing the game of Sally Waters similar names are used. Thus the children in Penzance stand in a ring and sing the following verse: —

 
Little Sally Sander sitting in the Sander,
Weeping and crying for her young man.
 

(1894, No. 26.)

In playing the game in Liverpool they begin: —

 
Little Polly Sanders sits on the sand, etc.
 

(Ibid., No. 42.)

The verses used in Yorkshire begin: —

 
Little Alice Sander sat upon a cinder, etc.
 

(Ibid., No. 31.)

These names Sally Sander, Polly Sanders, etc., must be derived from the same source as Saunderson and Sanders of the Cushion Dance. A host of other rhymes current in the nursery deal with the same theme, and are formed on the same model. There is one step only from little Sally Sander of Penzance, little Polly Sanders of Liverpool, and little Alice Sander who sat upon a cinder, to the following rhymes which are included in different nursery collections. All these rhymes describe a person sitting and waiting, and most of them dwell on the idea of a seat or a cushion, while the allusion to matters matrimonial, being unsuitable to children, is altogether dropped.

 
Little Polly Flinders sat among the cinders,
Warming her pretty toes;
Her mother came and caught her, and scolded her little daughter,
For spoiling her nice new clothes.
 

(1846, p. 212.)

 
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey,
There came a great spider and sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.³¹
 
 
Little Mary Ester sat upon a tester
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a little spider and sat down beside her,
And frightened Mary Ester away.
 

(1842, p. 61.)

Tuffet and tester are words for a footstool.

 
Little Miss Mopsey sat in the shopsey,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a great spider who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Mopsey away.
 

(1842, p. 37.)

 
Little Tom Tacket sits upon his cracket,
Half a yard of cloth will make him a jacket,
Make him a jacket and breeches to the knee,
And if you will not have him, you may let him be.
 

(1842, p. 199.)

 
Little Tom Tucker sings for his supper,
What shall he eat, but white bread and butter;
How will he cut it, without e're a knife
And how will he be married without e're a wife.
 

(1744, p. 10; c. 1783, p. 56.)

 
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,
Eating a [of] Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb, and he took [pulled] out a plum,
And said [cried] "What a good boy am I!"
 
 
Chorus: And what a good boy am I!
 

(c. 1783, p. 55.)

These verses as they here stand arranged, show an increasing deviation from the words used in playing the game of Sally Waters.

Tom Tucker and Jack Horner are names that go some way back in history. For Brand states that at the revels kept at St. John's College, 1 November, 1607, a Christmas Lord of the Revels was chosen as Thomas Tucker.³² A dance tune of the Dauncing Master was called Tom Tucker also.³³

The name of Jacky Horner was familiar to Carey about the year 1720, as mentioned above. Little Jack Horner was a well-known tune, and there is a direction in the Grub Street opera that the chorus shall be sung to this melody.³⁴ A chapbook of the latter half of the eighteenth century bears the title, The Pleasant History of Jack Horner, containing his Witty Tricks, etc. It cites the familiar rhyme, and further describes the pranks that the hero played upon women. This association and the name recall the expressions hornified, that is a cuckold;³⁵ horning, a mock serenade "without which no wedding would be complete"; and Horn Fair, a time of unusual licence, kept up in Kent: "all was fair at Horn Fair" (1876, p. 387).