Part 6

This pretty song has been recited to us by informants of the most cultivated class, and, on the other hand, we have seen it played as a round by the very "Arabs of the street," in words identically the same. It is an old English song, which has been fitted for a ring-game by the composition of an additional verse, to allow the selection of a partner.

"There she stands, a lovely creature, Who she is, I do not know; I have caught her for her beauty,-- Let her answer, yes or no.

"Madam, I have gold and silver, Lady, I have houses and lands, Lady, I have ships on the ocean, All I have is at thy command."

"What care I for your gold and silver, What care I for your houses and lands, What care I for your ships on the ocean-- _All I want is a nice young man._"

_New York._

No. 7.

_Green Grow the Rushes, O!_

In former times, the amusements of young people at their winter-evening gatherings consisted almost entirely of "playing games." On such occasions the following rhyme was used (in eastern Massachusetts) about the beginning of the century, to select partners for the ring. Chairs were placed in a circle, and the players of one sex seated, so as to leave alternate vacant places, for which they chose occupants, singing--

"Green grow the rushes, O! Green grow the rushes, O! He who will my true love be, Come and sit by the side of me."

Those waiting to be selected sang,

"Pick and choose, but choose not me, Choose the fairest you can see."

This dialogue was repeated for each player until all were taken in, which, if the party was numerous, of necessity took a long time.

No. 8.

_The Widow with Daughters to Marry._

A child, representing a mother, is followed by a file of daughters, each grasping the frock of the girl in front.

There comes a poor widow from Barbary-land,[43] With all her children in her hand; One can brew, and one can bake, And one can make a wedding-cake; Pray take one, Pray take two, Pray take one that pleases you.[44]

_Philadelphia._

The "poor widow" is also represented as having only one daughter left.

Sister, O Phoebe, how happy we be, As we go under the juniper-tree! We'll put on our night-caps to keep our heads warm, And two or three kisses will do us no harm-- Will do us no harm, Io! I am a poor widow, a-marching around, And all of my daughters are married but one; So rise up my daughter, and kiss whom you please, And kiss whom you please, Io!

_Philadelphia._

Another old version of this round:

I am a rich widow, I live all alone, I have but one daughter, and she is my own; Go, daughter, go choose, go choose your one, Go choose a good one, or else choose you none.

_New York._

Finally, we have the modern corruption of the street, which, however, shows us the manner of playing:

A child stands in the ring, as the mother. The daughter reclines as if asleep, her head resting on her hands, till the words, _rise up_.

Here _stands_ a poor widow a-walking around, Io! Io! Io! So put on the night-cap to keep her head warm, To keep her head warm, Io! So rise up my daughter, and kiss whom you please, And kiss whom you please, Io!

_New York._

The widow with daughters to marry is a European celebrity. The titles _rich_ and _poor_, moreover, in this and the last number, are not meaningless, but show that two independent characters have been united in one. In the original European game, which we have not encountered in an English form, there is both a _rich_ and a _poor_ mother; the latter begs away, one by one, the daughters of the former, until she has secured all. The present round and the preceding are only reductions, or adaptations to the dance, of this more ancient and dramatic game. Once more, the game of the rich and poor mothers, though centuries old, and existing in many European tongues, is itself but an outgrowth of a still more ancient childish drama, which has given birth to innumerable sports, dances, and songs, exhibiting very different external characteristics all over Europe, but of which primitive and complete versions at present seem to exist only in America.[45]

No. 9.

_Philander's March._

This rhyme has been familiar throughout the New England States. Some of our older readers will remember how the doors of all the apartments of an old-fashioned mansion, with its great chimney in the centre, would be thrown open at an evening party, and the children march through the house, and up and down the staircase, singing the familiar air--

Come, Philanders,[46] let's be a-marching, Every one choose from his heartstrings;[47] Choose your true love now or never, And be sure you choose no other. O, my dear----, how I do love you! Nothing on earth do I prize above you! With a kiss now let me greet you, And I will never, never leave you.

_Plymouth, Mass._ (about 1800).

Another version:

Come, Philander, let us be a-marching, From the ranks there's no deserting, Choose your own, your own true lover, See that you don't choose any other; Now farewell, dear love, farewell, We're all a-marching, so farewell.

_Deerfield, Mass._

Why, of all the names of the Damon and Sylvia class, _Philander_,[48] which, according to derivation, should mean fondness for the male sex, came to be a proverbial expression for an amorous person, and contributed to the English language a verb (to philander) we cannot say. Children's intelligence made wild work of the word. A New England variation was, "Come, _Lysanders_;" and in Pennsylvania, on the Maryland border, the first line has been ingeniously distorted into "_Cumberland city-town-boys_" marching! Cumberland being a town in the latter state.

No. 10.

_Marriage._

(1.) By this name was known in Massachusetts, at the beginning of the century, an elaborate dance (for such, though practised in a Puritan community, it really was) which has a very decided local flavor.

Partners having been chosen, the girl says--

"Come, my dearest partner, and join both heart and hand; You want you a wife, and I want me a man. So married we will be, if we can agree, We'll march down together, so happy are we."

The partners now separate, the lad saying--

"Now I must part, and leave you alone, So fare you well, my true love, till I return."

The maid replies--

"I mourn, I mourn, for that is the cry, I'm left all alone, and I'm sure I shall die."

But, after walking round, rejoins her partner, who welcomes her--

"Oh, here comes my love, and how do you do? And how have you been since I parted with you?"

The pair then address the row--

"There is a scene secure from all harm, Please to give us joy by the raising of the arm."

The other players, who stand each lad opposite his lass, raise arms, and the couple walk down under the arch so formed, pausing at the foot--

"Now we are married, and never more to part, Please to give a kiss from the bottom of the heart."

And the game proceeds with the next couple.

_Scituate, Mass._ (about 1800).

(2.) No better as respects poetry, but with more evidence of old English origin, is the following game, in which couples circle in a ring about two chairs, from time to time changing partners. We have not been clearly informed of the way of playing, but presume that at the time of the change the youth or girl in the ring must select a mate.

"On the green carpet here we stand, Take your true love in your hand; Take the one whom you profess To be the one whom you love best."

A change of partners.

"Very well done, said Johnny Brown, Is this the way to London town? Stand ye here, stand ye there, Till your true love doth appear."

A mate is finally chosen, and the ring sings--

"Oh, what a beautiful choice you've made! Don't you wish you'd longer stayed? [Give her a kiss, and send her away, And tell her she can no longer stay."[49]]

_Salem, Mass._

The "green carpet" is, of course, the grass, on which the village dance proceeds in the summer-time,[50] and the remains of an ancient "carol" appear in the corrupt rhyme.

(3.) To the game of _Marriage_, as played in France and Italy, the following closely corresponds:

A boy and girl having been chosen by singing our No. 17, and standing in the centre of the ring, the game proceeds, with imitative motion and gesture--

"Row the boat! Row the boat! Let the boat stand! I think ---- ---- is a handsome young man; I think ---- ---- is as handsome as he, And they shall be married, if they can agree."[51]

Such short rhymes are not used independently, but joined to some fragment of a ballad, which they serve to turn into a game, as may be seen in our No. 12.

(4.) We take this opportunity to give one or two other familiar examples of kissing rounds:

Had I as many eyes as the stars in the skies, And were I as old as Adam, I'd fall on my knees, and kiss whom I please, Your humble servant, madam.

In Boston, half a century since, this ran--

As many _wives as the stars in the skies_, And each _as old as Adam_, etc.

In Georgia, at the present day--

Many, many stars are in the skies, And _each as old as Adam_, etc.

(5.) The following is yet more inane, yet it furnishes a curious example of correspondence--

"---- ---- languishes." "For whom?" "For ---- ----."

This is not much more crude than the French equivalent.[52]

(6.) We may add that the familiar American game, known as "Pillow," or "Pillows and Keys" (why _keys_?), in which a player kneels on a _pillow_ and solicits a kiss, is no doubt a descendant of the "Cushion Dance," alluded to by old dramatists.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] The game, half a century since, was played by boys as well as girls. New England variations are numerous; thus for the last line of verse 4, "I'll turn my face another way." For verse 7, "Go through the kitchen and through the hall, and choose the fairest one of all." A New York variety puts the last words into the mouth of the bride: "I'm so happy that I could sing."

[36] So in an English variety:

"I will give you pots and pans, I will give you brass, I will give you anything for a pretty lass."

"No."

"I will give you gold and silver, I will give you pearl, I will give you anything for a pretty girl."

"Take one, take one, the fairest you may see."

Halliwell, "Nursery Rhymes."

[37] The ending is like ours--

"Prenez la plus jolie de toutes." "Voilà la plus jolie de toutes."

[38]

Eco la Nina al campo--fra tanti suoni e canti; Eco la Nina al campo--olà, olà, olà.

Faciamo un bel' inchino--profondo al suo rispeto; Faciamo un bel' inchino--olà, olà, olà.

[39] A New Hampshire fragment has here,

"The _scornful maid_, she won't come out,"

which seems more genuine.

[40] An English variety, printed a century since in "Gammer Gurton's Garland," has as the first line of the refrain,

_My-a-dildin, my-a-daldin_;

and as the alternate line,

_Lily white and shine-a_.

The last phrase comes to us as the fragment of a game in Massachusetts, about 1800. We are reminded of the songs of Autolycus in "A Winter's Tale," "with such delicate burdens of _dildos_ and fadings."

[41] Here verses may be improvised at pleasure; for instance, said the little reciter,

"I'll give to you a dress of black, A green silk apron and a white cap, If you will marry," etc.

[42] In the English version "to ring up _your maidens_."

[43] Variation: "Here comes an old woman from Sunderland," or "Cumberland."

[44] In Canada the game goes:

J'ai tant d'enfants à marier! J'ai tant d'enfants à marier! Grand Dieu! je n' sais comment Pouvoir en marier tant.

Mademoiselle, on parle à vous; On dit que vous aimez beaucoup; Si c'est vrai que vous aimez, Entrez dans la danse, entrez!

[45] See Note; also No. 154, and Note.

[46] Usually plural.

[47] Or, dialectically, "every one his true lover _sarching_."

[48] "Were his men like him, he'd command a regiment of Damons and _Philanders_."--"Two Faces under One Hood," by Thomas Dibdin.

[49] From another version.

[50] As Lodge has it--

Footing it featlie on the grassie ground, These damsels circling with their brightsome faires--

[51] Fifty years ago the corresponding French game was still played as a "game of society"--

Eh! qui marirons-nous? Mademoiselle, ce sera vous: Entrez dans la danse; J'aimerai qui m'aimera, j'aimerai qui m'aime.

The round then proceeds--

Eh! qui lui donnerons-nous? Mon beau monsieur, ce sera vous. Amans, embrassez-vous, etc.

[52]

"Qui est-ce qui languira?" "Ce sera ---- ---- qui languira." "---- ---- la guerira."

_French game in Cambrai_.

II.

_HISTORIES._

A fresh wreath of crimson roses Round my forehead twine will I; I will wear them for a garland, Wear them till the day I die.

I desire that in my coffin May be room enough for three; For my father, for my mother, And my love to lie with me.

Afterwards above the coffin We will let a flower grow; In the morning we will plant it, In the evening it will blow.

Wayfarers will pause demanding, "Whose may be the flower there?" "'Tis the flower of Rosetina, She who died of love's despair."

_Round of Girls in Venice._

No. 11.

_Miss Jennia Jones._

This childish drama has been familiar in the Middle States since the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The Scotch equivalent shows that the heroine's name was originally _Jenny jo_. "Jo" is an old English word for sweetheart, probably a corruption of _joy_, French _joie_, used as a term of endearment. _Jenny my joy_ has thus been modernized into Miss Jennia (commonly understood to be a contraction for Virginia) Jones!

The story is originally a love-tale. The young lady, like Rosetina in the Venetian song (a part of which we have translated above) dies of blighted affection and the prohibition of cruel parents. The suitor, in America, is represented by feminine friends. Yet the drama has lived; a proof that in singing and playing love-tales the children rather imitated their elders than followed a necessity of their own nature.

From various versions we select the following:

A mother, seated. Miss Jennia Jones stands behind her chair, or reclines on her lap as if lying sick. A dancer advances from the ring.

"I've come to see Miss Jennia Jones, Miss Jennia Jones, Miss Jennia Jones-- I've come to see Miss Jennia Jones, And how is she to-day?"

"She's up-stairs washing, Washing, washing-- She's up-stairs washing, You cannot see her to-day."

The questions are repeated to the same air for every day of the week, and the reply is that Miss Jennia Jones is ironing, baking, or scrubbing. She is then represented as sick, as worse, and finally as dead, which announcement is received with signs of deep grief. The dancers of the ring then discuss the costume in which she shall be buried:

"What shall we dress her in, Dress her in, dress her in; What shall we dress her in-- Shall it be blue?"

"Blue is for sailors, So that will never do."

"What shall we dress her in, Shall it be red?"

"Red is for firemen, So that will never do."

"Pink is for babies, So that will never do."

"Green is forsaken, So that will never do."

"Black is for mourners, So that will never do."

"White is for dead people, So that will just do."

"Where shall we bury her? Under the apple-tree."

After the ceremonies of burial have been completed, the ghost of Miss Jennia Jones suddenly arises--

"I dreamt I saw a ghost last night, Ghost last night, ghost last night-- I dreamt I saw a ghost last night, Under the apple-tree!"

The ring breaks up, and flies with shrieks, and the one caught is to represent Miss Jennia Jones.

An interesting feature of our game is the symbolism of color. "Each of these colors," says an informant, "which denoted a profession, also typified a feeling. Thus, blue, which is said to be for _sailors_, suggested _constancy_."

In one version of the game, which comes to us from an Irish source, _green_ is for _grief, red_ for _joy, black_ for _mourning_, and _white_ for _death_. In another such version, _white_ is for _angels_, and is the chosen color; a reading we would willingly adopt, as probably more ancient, and as expressing the original seriousness of the whole, and the feeling which the color of white symbolized. In more common Irish phrase, _green_ is for _Irish_, _yellow_ for _Orangemen_. In Cincinnati, _purple_ is for _kings_ and _queens_, _gray_ for _Quakers_. In a Connecticut variation, _yellow_ is for _glad folks_.

An English saying corresponds closely to the significance of colors in our game:

Blue is true, yellow is jealous, Green is forsaken, red is brazen, White is love, and black is death.

A variation from West Virginia makes the question apply to the dress of the mourners, not of the deceased: "What shall we dress in?" "In our red, in our blue," etc., are rejected, and the decision is, "In our white."

Such imitations of burial ceremonies are not merely imaginative. It was once the custom for the girls of a village to take an active part in the interment of one of their number. In a Flemish town, a generation since, when a young girl died, her body was carried to the church, thence to the cemetery, by her former companions. "The religious ceremony over, and the coffin deposited in the earth, all the young girls, holding in one hand the mortuary cloth, returned to the church, chanting the _maiden's dance_ with a spirit and rhythm scarcely conceivable by one who has not heard it. The pall which they carried to the church was of sky-blue silk, having in the middle a great cross of white silk, on which were set three crowns of silver."

The following is a rendering of the "Maiden's Dance:"

In heaven is a dance; Alleluia! There dance all the maids; Benedicamus Domino-- Alleluia!

It is for Amelia; Alleluia! We dance like the maids; Benedicamus Domino-- Alleluia!

Such touching customs show the profound original earnestness underlying the modern child's play, as well as the primitive religious significance of the dance. In England, too, it was the practice for the bearers of a virgin to be maids, as a ballad recites:

A garland fresh and faire Of lilies there was made, In signe of her virginity, And on her coffin laid. Six maidens, all in white, Did beare her to the grave.

No. 12.

_Down She Comes as White as Milk._

This round is remarkable for being introduced, wherever it occurs, by a stanza with a different melody, whereby the ballad is turned into a game. By this introduction the hero and heroine of the action are selected.

"Little Sally Waters," or "Uncle John," having been first played, the round proceeds about the couple standing in the ring:

He knocks at the door, and picks up a pin, And asks if Miss ---- is in.

She neither is in, she neither is out, She's in the garret a-walking about.

Down she comes as white as milk, A rose in her bosom, as soft as silk.

She takes off her gloves, and shows me a ring; To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding begins.[53]

_Concord, Mass._ (_before 1800_).

The version now played in New York streets is corrupt, but has a spirited melody:

Wa-ter, wa-ter, wild-flowers, grow-ing up so high; We are all young la-dies, And we are sure to die, Ex-cept-ing Su-sie Al-len, She is the fin-est flow-er. Fie, fie, fie for shame; Turn about and tell your beau's name.

The girl complying, the ballad proceeds--

Mr. _Nobody_ is a nice young man, He comes to the door with his hat in his hand.

Down she comes, all dressed in silk, A rose in her bosom, as white as milk.

She takes off her gloves, she shows me her ring, To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding begins.

The song before us furnishes a good example of the persistency of childish tradition. Not only is it still current in New England and the Middle States, with words closely corresponding to those given in our version of almost a century since, but these words are also nearly identical with the language of the round as we are told it is sung at the present day in Ireland.

Of a type similar to the foregoing is an ancient and curious, but unpublished, nursery song,[54] the first lines of which, at least, will be familiar to some of our readers:

Sing, sparrow, sing! What shall I sing? All the boys in our town have gone courting; All but little Charley, And he stays at home, And he says he'll have Mary, Or else he'll have none.

Row, boat, row! Where shall I row? Up to little Mary's door. Out jumps little Charley in his boots and spurs, And goes to the door, and pulls at the string-- "Where's little Mary? Is she within?"

"Miss Mary's up-stairs, a-making a cap." Then down comes Miss Mary, as white as the milk, All dressed in pink posies and sweet pretty silk, And goes to the cupboard, and takes up the can, And drinks to little Charley, a pretty little man. He takes her in his lap, and pares her nails,[55] And gives her a posy of peacock's tails, And rings and jewels fit for her hand, And tells little Mary he'll come again.

The mention in this rhyme of the cupboard and the can carries us to a time not so remote indeed in years, but far removed in customs. At the beginning of the century, in the old colonial towns, tumblers were unknown; the silver can stood on the table, and was passed from hand to hand at the meal, the elders drinking first. This usage was accompanied with much ceremony. An informant (born in Salem, Mass.), whose memory goes back almost to the beginning of the century, recollects how, when it came to be his turn to drink, he was obliged to rise and wipe his lips (the use of the same vessel by a whole family made this habit proper), and repeat the words, while parents and friends laid down knives and forks and looked on, "Duty to Sir and Ma'am, respects to aunt, love to brother and sister, and health to myself." Sometimes, he said, sensitive children would rather "go dry" than endure this ordeal.

No. 13.

_Little Sally Waters._

A girl in the centre of the ring, seated, and covering her face with her hands. At the word "rise," she chooses and salutes any one whom she pleases.

Little Sally Waters, Sitting in the sun, Crying and weeping, For a young man. Rise, Sally, rise, Dry your weeping eyes, Fly to the East, Fly to the West, Fly to the one you love best.

In the north of England the heroine's name is _Sally Walker_:

Sally Walker, Sally Walker, Come spring-time and love-- She's lamenting, she's lamenting, All for her young man.

A ballad situation has been united with a dance-rhyme.

No. 14.

_Here Sits the Queen of England._

Here sits the Queen of England in her chair, She has lost the true love that she had last year; So rise upon your feet, and kiss the first you meet, For there's many around your chair.

_Georgia._

No. 15.

_Green Gravel._

A girl sits in the ring, and turns her head gravely as a messenger advances, while the rest sing to a pleasing air--

Green gravel, green gravel, the grass is so green, And all the free _masons_ (maidens) are _ashamed_ (arrayed?) to "be seen;"[56] O Mary, O Mary, your true love is dead, The king sends you a letter to turn back your head.[57]

There are only two lines left of the ballad, or rather reminiscence of one.