Chapter 2

She was not made out of his head, sir, To rule and to govern the man; Nor was she made out of his feet, sir, By man to be trampled upon.

He had oxen and foxes for hunting, And all that was pleasant in life; Yet still his Almighty Creator Thought that he wanted a wife.

But she did come forth from his side, sir, His equal and partner to be; And now they are coupled together, She oft proves the top of the tree.

Adam lay i-bowndyn, Bowndyn in a bond, Fower thousand winter Thowt he not to long; And al was for an appil, An appil that he tok, As clerkes fyndyn wretyn In here book.

Ne hadde the appil taken ben, The appil taken ben, Ne hadde never our lady A ben hevene quen. Blyssid be the tyme That appil taken was! Therefore we mown syngyn Deo gracias.

FIFTEENTH CENTURY CAROL

Adam was supposed to have lain in bonds in the _limbus patrum_ from the time of his death to the Crucifixion.

CHESHIRE CHEESE

A Cheshire man sailed into Spain To trade for merchandise; When he arrived from the main A Spaniard him espies,

Who said: "You English rogue, look here! What fruits and spices fine Our land produces twice a year! Thou hast not such in thine!"

The Cheshire man ran to his hold, And fetched a Cheshire cheese, And said: "Look here, you dog, behold, We have such fruits as these!

"Your fruits are ripe but twice a year, As you yourself do say; But such as I present you here, Our land brings twice a day."

The Spaniard in a passion flew, And his rapier took in hand; The Cheshire man kicked up his heels, Saying: "Thou art at my command."

So never let a Spaniard boast While Cheshire men abound, Lest they should teach him, to his cost, To dance a Cheshire round.

THREE WELCH HUNTERS

There were three jovial Welchmen, As I've heard them say, And they would go a-hunting Upon St David's day. All the day they hunted, And nothing could they find, But a ship a-sailing, A-sailing with the wind. One said it was a ship, The other said, nay; The third said it was a house, And the chimney blown away. And all the night they hunted, And nothing could they find, But the moon a-gliding, A-gliding with the wind. One said it was the moon The other said, nay; The third said it was a cheese, And half o't cut away.

LAMENT OF A MOTHER, WHOSE CHILD WAS STOLEN BY FAIRIES

_From the Gaelic._

I left my bairnie lying here, Lying here, lying here; I left my bairnie lying here, To go and gather blaeberries.

I've found the wee brown otter's track, Otter's track, otter's track; I've found the wee brown otter's track, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the swan's track on the lake, On the lake, on the lake; I found the swan's track on the lake, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the track of the yellow fawn, Yellow fawn, yellow fawn; I found the track of the yellow fawn, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the trail of the mountain mist, Mountain mist, mountain mist; I found the trail of the mountain mist, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

This is my birthday, do you know? Once I was four, that's long ago; Once I was three, and two, and one, Only a baby that could not run. Now I am five, so old and so strong, I could run races all the day long! And I mean to grow bigger, and stronger, and older, Some day perhaps I shall be a brave soldier. I think I'm the happiest boy alive! Oh, wouldn't you like to be me--now I'm five?

GRACE FOR A LITTLE CHILD

Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat, and on us all.

"I do not like to go to bed," Sleepy little Harry said; "Go, naughty Betty, go away, I will not come at all, I say!"

Oh, what a silly little fellow, I should be quite ashamed to tell her; Then Betty, you must come and carry This very foolish little Harry.

The little birds are better taught, They go to roosting when they ought; And all the ducks and fowls, you know, They went to bed an hour ago.

The little beggar in the street, Who wanders with his naked feet, And has no where to lay his head, Oh, he'd be glad to go to bed.

My child, when we were children, Two children little and gay, We crept into the hen-roost, And hid behind the hay.

We crowed as doth the cock crow, When people passed that road, Cried "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" They thought the cock had crowed.

The chests that lay in the court We papered and made so clean, And dwelt therein together-- We thought them fit for a queen.

Oft came our neighbour's old cat, With us an hour to spend; We made her curtseys and bows, And compliments without end.

There was one little Jim, 'Tis reported of him, And must be to his lasting disgrace-- That he never was seen With his hands at all clean, Nor yet ever clean was his face.

His friends were much hurt To see so much dirt, And often they made him quite clean; But all was in vain, He was dirty again, And not at all fit to be seen.

When to wash he was sent, He reluctantly went With water to splash himself o'er; But he seldom was seen To have washed himself clean, And often looked worse than before.

The idle and bad, Like this little lad, May be dirty and black to be sure; But good boys are seen To be decent and clean, Although they are ever so poor.

CLEANLINESS

Come my little Robert, near-- Fie! what filthy hands are here! Who, that e'er could understand The rare structure of a hand, With its branching fingers fine, Work itself of hands divine, Strong yet delicately knit, For ten thousand uses fit, Overlaid with so clear skin You may see the blood within,-- Who this hand would choose to cover With a crust of dirt all over, Till it looked in hue and shape Like the forefoot of an ape! Man or boy that works or plays In the fields or the highways, May, without offence or hurt, From the soil contract a dirt Which the next clear spring or river Washes out and out for ever. But to cherish stains impure, Soil deliberate to endure, On the skin to fix a stain Till it works into the grain, Argues a degenerate mind, Sordid, slothful, ill-inclined, Wanting in that self-respect Which doth virtue best protect. All-endearing cleanliness, Virtue next to godliness, Easiest, cheapest, needfull'st duty, To the body health and beauty; Who that's human would refuse it, When a little water does it?

Little Willie from his mirror Sucked the mercury all off, Thinking, in his childish error, It would cure his whooping-cough.

At the funeral, Willie's mother Smartly said to Mrs Brown, "'Twas a chilly day for William When the mercury went down."

_Chorus_

"Ah, ah, ah!" said Willie's mother, "Oh, oh, oh!" said Mrs Brown, "'Twas a chilly day for William When the mercury went down!"

FEIGNED COURAGE

Horatio, of ideal courage vain, Was flourishing in air his father's cane, And, as the fumes of valour swelled his pate, Now thought himself this hero, and now that; "And now," he cried, "I will Achilles be; My sword I brandish; see, the Trojans flee! Now, I'll be Hector, when his angry blade A lane through heaps of slaughter'd Grecians made! And now my deeds still braver I'll evince, I am no less than Edward the Black Prince.

"Give way, ye coward French!" As this he spoke, And aim'd in fancy a sufficient stroke To fix the fate of Cressy or Poitiers (The Muse relates the Hero's fate with tears), He struck his milk-white hand against a nail, Sees his own blood, and feels his courage fail. Ah! where is now that boasted valour flown, That in the tented field so late was shown? Achilles weeps, great Hector hangs his head, And the Black Prince goes whimpering to bed.

ON READING

"And so you do not like to spell, Mary, my dear; oh, very well: 'Tis dull and troublesome, you say, And you would rather be at play.

"Then bring me all your books again, Nay, Mary, why do you complain? For as you do not choose to read, You shall not have your books indeed.

"So as you wish to be a dunce, Pray go and fetch me them at once; For if you will not learn to spell, 'Tis vain to think of reading well.

"Now, don't you think you'll blush to own, When you become a woman grown, Without one good excuse to plead, That you have never learned to read?"

"Oh, dear mamma," said Mary then, "Do let me have my books again; I'll not fret any more indeed, If you will let me learn to read."

Maria had an aunt at Leeds, For whom she made a purse of beads; 'Twas neatly done, by all allow'd, And praise soon made her vain and proud.

Her mother, willing to repress This strong conceit of cleverness, Said, "I will show you, if you please, A honeycomb, the work of bees!

"Yes, look within their hive, and then Examine well your purse again; Compare your merits, and you will Admit the insect's greater skill."

Knit, Dorothy, knit, The sunbeams round thee flit, So merry the minutes go by, go by, While fast thy fingers fly, they fly. Knit, Dorothy, knit.

Sing, Dorothy, sing, The birds are on the wing, 'Tis better to sing than to sigh, to sigh, While fast thy fingers fly, they fly. Sing, Dorothy, sing.

HOW TO HEAL A BURN

"Oh, we have had a sad mishap! As Clara lay in nurse's lap, Too near the fire the chair did stand-- A coal flew out and burnt her hand.

"It must have flown above the guard, It came so quick, and hit so hard; And, would you think it? raised a blister: Oh, how she cried! poor little sister!

"Poor thing! I grieved to see it swell;" "What will you do to make it well?" "Why," said Mamma, "I really think Some scraped potato, or some ink.

"A little vinegar or brandy, Whichever nurse can find most handy, All these are good, my little daughter, But nothing's better than cold water."

REBELLIOUS FRANCES

The babe was in the cradle laid, And Tom had said his prayers, When Frances told the nursery-maid She would not go upstairs!

She cried so loud, her mother came To ask the reason why, And said, "Oh, Frances, fie for shame! Oh fie! oh fie! oh fie!"

But Frances was more naughty still, And Betty sadly nipp'd; Until her mother said, "I will-- I must have Frances whipp'd.

"For, oh! how naughty 'tis to cry, But worse, much worse, to fight, Instead of running readily, And calling out, 'Good-night!'"

POISONOUS FRUIT

As Tommy and his sister Jane Were walking down a shady lane, They saw some berries, bright and red, That hung around and overhead.

And soon the bough they bended down, To make the scarlet fruit their own; And part they ate, and part in play, They threw about and flung away.

But long they had not been at home, Before poor Jane and little Tom Were taken sick, and ill to bed, And since, I've heard they both are dead.

Alas! had Tommy understood That fruit in lanes is seldom good, He might have walked with little Jane Again along the shady lane.

BEASTS, BIRDS, Etc.

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Little Mary was given a woolly-nosed lamb, And she fed it on ginger and gooseberry jam. One day Mary was hungry, and longed for lamb chops, So into the oven her lambkin she pops. When the oven was opened, Mary opened her eyes, For, what do you think? There was such a surprise; In her hurry the oven she'd forgotten to heat, So out jumped the lamb, and forgetting to bleat, It said, "Mary, my dear, if there's _no_ gooseberry jam, I can lunch very well on potatoes and ham."

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice! Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee; Little lamb, I'll tell thee; He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a lamb. He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee!

THE RAM OF DERBY

As I was going to Derby, sir, All on a market day, I met the finest ram, sir, That ever was fed upon hay. Daddle-i-day, daddle-i-day, Fal-de-ral, fal-de-ral, daddle-i-day.

This ram was fat behind, sir, This ram was fat before, This ram was ten yards high, sir, Indeed he was no more. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The wool upon his back, sir, Reached up unto the sky, The eagles made their nests there, sir, I heard the young ones cry. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The wool upon his belly, sir, It dragged upon the ground, It was sold in Derby town, sir, For forty thousand pound. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The space between his horns, sir, Was as far as a man could reach, And there they built a pulpit, sir, For the parson there to preach. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The teeth that were in his mouth, sir, Were like a regiment of men, And the tongue that hung between them, sir, Would have dined them twice and again. Daddle-i-day, etc.

This ram jumped o'er a wall, sir, His tail caught on a briar, It reached from Derby town, sir, All into Leicestershire. Daddle-i-day, etc.

And of this tail so long, sir, 'Twas ten miles and an ell, They made a goodly rope, sir, To toll the market bell. Daddle-i-day, etc.

This ram had four legs to walk, sir, This ram had four legs to stand, And every leg he had, sir, Stood on an acre of land. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The butcher that killed this ram, sir, Was drowned in the blood, And all the good people of Derby, sir, Were carried away in the flood. Daddle-i-day, etc.

All the maids in Derby, sir, Came begging for his horns, To take them to the cooper's, sir, To make them milking gawns. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The little boys of Derby, sir, They came to beg his eyes, To kick about the streets, sir, For they were football size. Daddle-i-day, etc.

The tanner that tanned his hide, sir, Would never be poor any more, For when he had tanned and stretched it, sir, It covered all Sinfin Moor. Daddle-i-day, etc.

Indeed, sir, this is true, sir, I never was taught to lie, And had you been to Derby, sir, You'd have seen it, as well as I. Daddle-i-day, daddle-i-day, Fal-de-ral, fal-de-ral, daddle-i-day.

PUSSY

Jack Sprat had a cat, It had but one ear; That he cut off, And made small beer.

PUSSY

_Child_ "Wherefore wash you, Pussy, say, Every half-hour through the day?"

_Pussy_ "Why? Because 'twould look so bad If a dirty coat I had; Little face and little feet, They too must be always neat."

So says Pussy, and I've heard All give her a handsome word, In the parlour she may be, People take her on the knee, Why all love her I can tell,-- It is for washing herself so well.

Pussy sat upon a wall, Taking a little fresh air, A neighbour's little dog came by-- "O Pussy! are you there?"

"Good morning, Mistress Pussy-cat, Pray tell me how you do," "Quite well, I thank you," Puss replied, "And, Doggy, how are you?"

Pussy-cat Mole Jumped over a coal, And in her best petticoat Burnt a great hole. Poor pussy's weeping, She'll get no more milk, Until her best petticoat's Mended with silk.

"Leedle! leedle! leedle! our cat's dead." "How did she die?" "Wi' a sair head." All ye who ken'd her When she was alive, Come to her burying At half-past five.

"Good day, Miss Cat, so brisk and gay, How is it that alone you stay? And what is it you cook to day?" "Bread so white, and milk so sweet, Will it please you sit and eat?"

Pussy-cat high, pussy-cat low, Pussy-cat was a fine teazer of tow. Pussy-cat she came into a barn, With her bagpipes under her arm.

And then she told a tale to me, How mousie had married a humble bee. Then was I indeed ever so glad, That mousie had married so clever a lad.

DERBY

"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?" "I've been to see grandmother over the green." "What did she give you?" "Milk in a can." "What did you say for it?" "Thank you, Grandam."

KITTENS

Now we must name you little creatures, After your several gifts and natures; Velvet-skin, thou shalt be; Softly-Sneaking, call I thee; This I surname Catch-the-Mouse, But that one is Thief-o'-th'-House.

They grew up handsome as could be; Velvet-skin lay on the knee, Catch-the-Mouse for mice went seeking; In the barn went Softly-Sneaking; Thief-o'-th'-House indulged his wishes 'Mid the kitchen plates and dishes.

"What is she doing, Miss Cat? Is she sleeping, or waking, or what is she at?" "I am not asleep, I am quite wide awake, Perhaps you would know what I'm going to make; I'm melting some butter, and warming some beer, Will it please you sit down and partake of my cheer?"

Three cats sat at the fireside, With a basketful of coal dust, Coal dust! coal dust! With a basketful of coal dust. Said one little cat, To the other little cat, "If you don't speak, I must; I must, If you don't speak, I must."

Here is puss in the study; how cunning she looks! She likes rats and mice far better than books. Ah! that poor little mouse, it is out of its pain, And will never feel pussy's sharp talons again. I hope it has not left some young ones at home, Who with hunger may die ere their mother shall come. And yet 'twould be wrong to say puss is not good, For the rats and the mice, you know, serve her for food; And though we may pity the poor little mice, Yet we don't like to lose our cheese, butter, and rice.

THE COW

Most parts of the cow are useful and good, For leather, for lanthorns, for candles, or food; And before she is dead, we owe much to the cow, Her uses are great--let us think of them now. Every morning and evening how quiet she stands When the farmer's boy comes, stool and pail in his hands; And when he returns with the milk fresh and sweet, To most little children it proves a great treat. Mama likes the cream to put into the tea, And to make us nice puddings some milk there must be; Then from milk we have butter and cheese too, you know, So that all these good things we receive from the cow.

The cow has a horn, and the fish has a gill; The horse has a hoof, and the duck has a bill; The bird has a wing, that on high he may sail; And the lion a mane, and the monkey a tail; And they swim, or they fly, or they walk, or they eat, With fin, or with wing, or with bill, or with feet. And Charles has two hands, with five fingers to each, On purpose to hold with, to work, and to reach; No birds, beasts, or fishes, for work or for play, Has anything half so convenient as they: But if he don't use them, and keep them in use, He'd better have had but two legs like a goose.

There was a piper had a cow, And he had nocht to give her, He took his pipes and play'd a spring, And bade the cow consider; The cow consider'd with hersel' That music wad ne'er fill her; "Gie me a pickle clean ait-strae, And sell your wind for siller."

"Let us go to the wood," says this pig; "What to do there?" says that pig; "To look for my mother," says this pig; "What to do with her?" says that pig; "Kiss her to death," says this pig.

CORNWALL

"Whose little pigs are these, these, these, And whose little pigs are these?" "They are Johnny Cook's, I know them by their looks, And I found them among the peas." "Go pound them! go pound them!" "I dare not for my life, For though I don't love Johnny Cook, I dearly love his wife."

I had a little hobby-horse, His name was Neddy Grey, His head was stuffed with pea-straw, His tail was made of hay. He could nibble, he could trot, He could carry the mustard pot, From the table to the shop. Whoa! Neddy Grey.

THE NANNY-GOAT IN THE GARDEN

(_From the French._)

"Ho! Johnnie!" cries the master, "Ho! To chase that Nanny quickly go, She eats my grapes with eager haste, My garden soon will be a waste."

Johnnie goes, but returns not, Nor chases the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.

"Ho! Dog!" says the master, "Go bite that Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden."

The Dog goes, but returns not, Nor bites the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.

"Ho! Whip!" says the master, "Go thrash that Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden."

The Whip goes, and returns not, Nor thrashes the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.

"Ho! Fire!" says the master, "Go burn that Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden."

The Fire goes, and returns not, Nor burns the Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.

"Ho! Water!" says the master, "Go drown that Fire, That burns not the Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden."

The Water goes, and returns not, Nor drowns the Fire, That burns not the Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.

"Ho! Ass!" says the master, "Go drink that Water, That drowns not the Fire, That burns not the Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden."

The Ass goes, and returns not, Nor drinks the Water, That drowns not the Fire, That burns not the Whip, That thrashes not the Doggie, That bites not the Johnnie, Who chases not the Nanny, that eats the grapes, Down in the garden.