Part 3

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.

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.

There was a king and he had three daughter, And they all lived in a basin of water; The basin bended, My story's ended. If the basin had been stronger, My story would have been longer.

LXXVII.

The man in the moon, Came tumbling down, And ask'd his way to Norwich, He went by the south, And burnt his mouth With supping cold pease-porridge.

LXXVIII.

Our saucy boy Dick, Had a nice little stick Cut from a hawthorn tree; And with this pretty stick, He thought he could beat A boy much bigger than he.

But the boy turned round, And hit him a rebound, Which did so frighten poor Dick, That, without more delay, He ran quite away, And over a hedge he jumped quick.

LXXIX.

Moss was a little man, and a little mare did buy, For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh; She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there, But one night she strayed away--so Moss lost his mare.

Moss got up next morning to catch her fast asleep, And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep. Dead in a ditch he found her, and glad to find her there, So I'll tell you by and bye, how Moss caught his mare.

Rise! stupid, rise! he thus to her did say; Arise, you beast, you drowsy beast, get up without delay, For I must ride you to the town, so don't lie sleeping there; He put the halter round her neck--so Moss caught his mare.

FOURTH CLASS--PROVERBS.

LXXX.

St. Swithin's day, if thou dost rain, For forty days it will remain: St. Swithin's day, if thou be fair, For forty days 'twill rain na mair.

LXXXI.

To make your candles last for a', You wives and maids give ear-o! To put 'em out's the only way, Says honest John Boldero.

LXXXII.

If wishes were horses, Beggars would ride; If turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side.

LXXXIII.

[Hours of sleep.]

Nature requires five, Custom gives seven! Laziness takes nine, And Wickedness eleven.

LXXXIV.

Three straws on a staff, Would make a baby cry and laugh.

LXXXV.

See a pin and pick it up, All the day you'll have good luck; See a pin and let it lay, Bad luck you'll have all the day!

LXXXVI.

Go to bed first, a golden purse; Go to bed second, a golden pheasant; Go to bed third, a golden bird!

LXXXVII.

When the wind is in the east, 'Tis neither good for man nor beast; When the wind is in the north, The skilful fisher goes not forth; When the wind is in the south, It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth; When the wind is in the west, Then 'tis at the very best.

LXXXVIII.

Bounce Buckram, velvet's dear; Christmas comes but once a year.

LXXXIX.

[One version of the following song, which I believe to be the genuine one, is written on the last leaf of MS. Harl. 6580, between the lines of a fragment of an old charter, originally used for binding the book, in a hand of the end of the seventeenth century, but unfortunately it is scarcely adapted for the "ears polite" of modern days.]

A man of words and not of deeds, Is like a garden full of weeds; And when the weeds begin to grow, It's like a garden full of snow; And when the snow begins to fall, It's like a bird upon the wall; And when the bird away does fly, It's like an eagle in the sky; And when the sky begins to roar, It's like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart, It's like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.

XC.

A man of words and not of deeds, Is like a garden full of weeds; For when the weeds begin to grow, Then doth the garden overflow.

XCI.

If you sneeze on Monday, you sneeze for danger; Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger; Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter; Sneeze on a Thursday, something better; Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow; Sneeze on a Saturday, see your sweetheart to-morrow.

XCII.

A pullet in the pen Is worth a hundred in the fen!

XCIII.

He that would thrive Must rise at five; He that hath thriven May lie till seven; And he that by the plough would thrive, Himself must either hold or drive.

XCIV.

[The following is quoted in Miege's 'Great French Dictionary,' fol. Lond. 1687, 2d part.]

A swarm of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly.

XCV.

They that wash on Monday Have all the week to dry; They that wash on Tuesday Are not so much awry; They that wash on Wednesday Are not so much to blame; They that wash on Thursday, Wash for shame; They that wash on Friday, Wash in need; And they that wash on Saturday, Oh! they're sluts indeed.

XCVI.

Needles and pins, needles and pins, When a man marries his trouble begins.

XCVII.

[In Suffolk, children are frequently reminded of the decorum due to the Sabbath by the following lines.]

Yeow mussent sing a' Sunday, Becaze it is a sin, But yeow may sing a' Monday Till Sunday cums agin.

XCVIII.

A sunshiny shower, Won't last half an hour.

XCIX.

As the days grow longer, The storms grow stronger.

C.

As the days lengthen, So the storms strengthen.

CI.

He that goes to see his wheat in May, Comes weeping away.

CII.

The mackerel's cry, Is never long dry.

CIII.

In July, Some reap rye; In August, If one will not the other must.

CIV.

[Proverbial many years ago, when the guinea in gold was of a higher value than its nominal representative in silver,]

A guinea it would sink, And a pound it would float; Yet I'd rather have a guinea, Than your one pound note.

CV.

For every evil under the sun, There is a remedy, or there is none. If there be one, try and find it; If there be none, never mind it.

CVI.

The art of good driving 's a paradox quite, Though custom has prov'd it so long; If you go to the left, you're sure to go right, If you go to the right, you go wrong.

CVII.

Friday night's dream On the Saturday told, Is sure to come true, Be it never so old.

CVIII.

When the sand doth feed the clay, England woe and well-a-day! But when the clay doth feed the sand, Then it is well with Angle-land.

CIX.

The fair maid who, the first of May, Goes to the fields at break of day, And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree Will ever after handsome be.

FIFTH CLASS--SCHOLASTIC.

CX.

A diller, a dollar, A ten o'clock scholar, What makes you come so soon? You used to come at ten o'clock, But now you come at noon.

CXI.

Tell tale, tit! Your tongue shall be slit, And all the dogs in the town Shall have a little bit.

CXII.

[The joke or the following consists in saying it so quick that it cannot be told whether it is English or gibberish. It is remarkable that the last two lines are quoted in MS. Sloan. 4, of the fifteenth century, as printed in the 'Reliq. Antiq.,' vol. i, p. 324.]

In fir tar is, In oak none is. In mud eel is, In clay none is. Goat eat ivy, Mare eat oats.

CXIII.

[The dominical letters attached to the first days of the several months are remembered by the following lines.]

At Dover Dwells George Brown Esquire, Good Christopher Finch, And David Friar.

[An ancient and graver example, fulfilling the same purpose, runs as follows.]

Astra Dabit Dominus, Gratisque Beabit Egenos, Gratia Christicolæ Feret Aurea Dona Fideli.

CXIV.

Birch and green holly, boys, Birch and green holly. If you get beaten, boys, 'Twill be your own folly.

CXV.

When V and I together meet, They make the number Six compleat. When I with V doth meet once more, Then 'tis they Two can make but Four And when that V from I is gone, Alas! poor I can make but One.

CXVI.

Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad; The Rule of Three doth puzzle me, And Practice drives me mad.

CXVII.

[The following memorial lines are by no means modern. They occur, with slight variations, in an old play, called 'The Returne from Parnassus,' 4to, Lond. 1606; and another version may be seen in Winter's 'Cambridge Almanac' for 1635. See the 'Rara Mathematica,' p. 119.]

Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; February has twenty-eight alone, All the rest have thirty-one, Excepting leap-year, that's the time When February's days are twenty-nine.

CXVIII.

My story's ended, My spoon is bended: If you don't like it, Go to the next door, And get it mended.

CXIX.

[On arriving at the end of a book, boys have a practice of reciting the following absurd lines, which form the word _finis_ backwards and forwards, by the initials of the words,]--

Father Iohnson Nicholas Iohnson's son-- Son Iohnson Nicholas Iohnson's Father.

[To get to father Johnson, therefore, was to reach the end of the book.]

CXX.

The rose is red, the grass is green; And in this book my name is seen.

CXXI.

Cross patch, Draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin; Take a cup, And drink it up, Then call your neighbours in.

CXXII.

Come when you're called, Do what you're bid, Shut the door after you, Never be chid.

CXXIII.

Speak when you're spoken to, Come when one call; Shut the door after you, And turn to the wall!

CXXIV.

I love my love with an A, because he's Agreeable. I hate him because he's Avaricious. He took me to the Sign of the Acorn, And treated me with Apples. His name's Andrew, And he lives at Arlington.

CXXV.

[A laconic reply to a person who indulges much in supposition.]

If ifs and ands, Were pots and pans, There would be no need for tinkers!

CXXVI.

Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With cockle-shells, and silver bells, And mussels all a row.

CXXVII.

Doctor Faustus was a good man, He whipt his scholars now and then; When he whipp'd them he made them dance, Out of Scotland into France, Out of France into Spain, And then he whipp'd them back again!

CXXVIII.

[A Greek bill of fare.]

LEGOMOTON, Acapon, Alfagheuse, Pasti venison.

CXXIX.

When I was a little boy, I had but little wit It is some time ago, and I've no more yet; Nor ever ever shall, until that I die, For the longer I live, the more fool am I.

SIXTH CLASS--SONGS.

CXXX.

Oh, where are you going, My pretty maiden fair, With your red rosy cheeks, And your coal-black hair? I'm going a-milking, Kind sir, says she; And it's dabbling in the dew, Where you'll find me.

May I go with you, My pretty maiden fair, &c. Oh, you may go with me, Kind sir, says she, &c.

If I should chance to kiss you, My pretty maiden fair, &c. The wind may take it off again, Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is your father, My pretty maiden fair, &c. My father is a farmer, Kind sir, says she, &c.

And what is your mother, My pretty maiden fair, &c. My mother is a dairy-maid, Kind sir, says she, &c.

CXXXI.

Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, And let's drink tea.

Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again, They're all gone away.

CXXXII.

[This is the version generally given in nursery collections, but is somewhat different in the 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' 1719, vol. iv, p. 148.]

One misty moisty morning When cloudy was the weather, There I met an old man Clothed all in leather; Clothed all in leather, With cap under his chin,-- How do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again!

CXXXIII.

The fox and his wife they had a great strife, They never eat mustard in all their whole life; They eat their meat without fork or knife, And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!

The fox jumped up on a moonlight night; The stars they were shining, and all things bright; Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night For me to go through the town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to yonder stile, He lifted his lugs and he listened a while! Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!

The fox when he came to the farmer's gate, Who should he see but the farmer's drake; I love you well for your master's sake, And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!

The gray goose she ran round the hay-stack, Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat; You'll grease my beard and ride on my back From this into yonder wee town, e-ho!

Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed, She opened the casement, and popped out her head; Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead, And the fox is gone through the town, oh!

Then the old man got up in his red cap, And swore he would catch the fox in a trap; But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip, And ran thro' the town, the town, oh!

When he got to the top of the hill, He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill, For joy that he was safe Thro' the town, oh!

When the fox came back to his den, He had young ones both nine and ten, "You're welcome home, daddy, you may go again, If you bring us such nice meat From the town, oh!"

CXXXIV.

Little Tom Dogget, What dost thou mean, To kill thy poor Colly Now she's so lean? Sing, oh poor Colly, Colly, my cow, For Colly will give me No more milk now.

I had better have kept her, 'Till fatter she had been, For now, I confess, She's a little too lean. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

First in comes the tanner With his sword by his side, And he bids me five shillings For my poor cow's hide. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the tallow-chandler, Whose brains were but shallow, And he bids me two-and-sixpence For my cow's tallow. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the huntsman So early in the morn, He bids me a penny For my cow's horn. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the tripe-woman, So fine and so neat, She bids me three half-pence For my cow's feet. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the butcher, That nimble-tongu'd youth, Who said she was carrion, But he spoke not the truth. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

The skin of my cowly Was softer than silk, And three times a-day My poor cow would give milk. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

She every year A fine calf did me bring, Which fetcht me a pound, For it came in the spring. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

But now I have kill'd her, I can't her recall; I will sell my poor Colly, Hide, horns, and all. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

The butcher shall have her, Though he gives but a pound, And he knows in his heart That my Colly was sound. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.

And when he has bought her Let him sell all together, The flesh for to eat, And the hide for leather. Sing, oh poor Colly, &c.[*]

[Footnote *: A different version of the above, commencing, My Billy Aroms, is current in the nurseries of Cornwall. One verse runs as follows:

In comes the horner, Who roguery scorns, And gives me three farthings For poor cowly's horns.

This is better than our reading, and it concludes thus:

There's an end to my cowly, Now she's dead and gone; For the loss of my cowly, I sob and I mourn.]

CXXXV.

[A north-country song.]

Says t'auld man tit oak tree, Young and lusty was I when I kenn'd thee; I was young and lusty, I was fair and clear, Young and lusty was I mony a lang year; But sair fail'd am I, sair fail'd now, Sair fail'd am I sen I kenn'd thou.

CXXXVI.

You shall have an apple, You shall have a plum, You shall have a rattle-basket, When your dad comes home.

CXXXVII.

Up at Piccadilly oh! The coachman takes his stand, And when he meets a pretty girl, He takes her by the hand; Whip away for ever oh! Drive away so clever oh! All the way to Bristol oh! He drives her four-in-hand.

CXXXVIII.

[The first line of this nursery rhyme is quoted in Beaumont and Fletcher's _Bonduca_, Act v, sc. 2. It is probable also that Sir Toby alludes to this song in _Twelfth Night_, Act ii, sc. 2, when he says, "Come on; there is sixpence for you; let's have a song." In _Epulario, or the Italian banquet_, 1589, is a receipt "to make pies so that the birds may be alive in them and flie out when it is cut up," a mere device, live birds being introduced after the pie is made. This may be the original subject of the following song.]

Sing a song of sixpence, A bag full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie;

When the pie was open'd, The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish, To set before the king?

The king was in his counting-house Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlour Eating bread and honey;

The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes, There came a little blackbird, And snapt off her nose.

Jenny was so mad, She didn't know what to do; She put her finger in her ear, And crackt it right in two.

CXXXIX.

Lend me thy mare to ride a mile? She is lamed, leaping over a stile. Alack! and I must keep the fair! I'll give thee money for thy mare. Oh, oh! say you so? Money will make the mare to go!

CXL.

About the bush, Willy, About the bee-hive, About the bush, Willy, I'll meet thee alive.

Then to my ten shillings, Add you but a groat, I'll go to Newcastle, And buy a new coat.

Five and five shillings, Five and a crown; Five and five shillings, Will buy a new gown.

Five and five shillings, Five and a groat; Five and five shillings, Will buy a new coat.

CXLI.

A pretty little girl in a round-eared cap I met in the streets t'other day; She gave me such a thump, That my heart it went bump; I thought I should have fainted away! I thought I should have fainted away!

CXLII.