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.
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.
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.
H, 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.
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.*
* 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.
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.
My father he died, but I can't tell you how,
He left me six horses to drive in my plough:
With my wing wang waddle oh,
Jack sing saddle oh,
Blowsey boys bubble oh,
Under the broom.
I sold my six horses and I bought me a cow;
I'd fain have made a fortune but did not know how:
With my, &c.
I sold my cow, and I bought me a calf;
I'd fain have made a fortune, but lost the best half:
With my, &c.
I sold my calf, and I bought me a cat;
A pretty thing she was, in my chimney corner sat:
With my, &c.
I sold my cat, and bought me a mouse;
He carried fire in his tail, and burnt down my house:
With my, &c.
CXLIII.
Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they still were all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determin'd for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left all their tails behind 'em.
CXLIV.
Jeanie come tie my,
Jeanie come tie my,
Jeanie come tie my bonnie cravat;
I've tied it behind,
I've tied it before,
And I've tied it so often, I'll tie it no more.
CXLV.
Trip upon trenchers, and dance upon dishes,
My mother sent me for some barm, some barm;
She bid me tread lightly, and come again quickly,
For fear the young men should do me some harm.
Yet didn't you see, yet didn't you see,
What naughty tricks they put upon me:
They broke my pitcher,
And spilt the water,
And huff'd my mother,
And chid her daughter,
And kiss'd my sister instead of me.
CXLVI.
[From 'Histrio-mastix, or, the Player Whipt,' 4to, Lond. 1610. Mr. Rimbault tells me this is common in Yorkshire.]
Some up, and some down,
There's players in the town,
You wot well who they be;
The sun doth arise,
To three companies,
One, two, three, four, make wee!
Besides we that travel,
With pumps full of gravel,
Made all of such running leather:
That once in a week,
New masters we seek,
And never can hold together.
CXLVII.
Johnny shall have a new bonnet,
And Johnny shall go to the fair,
And Johnny shall have a blue ribbon
To tie up his bonny brown hair.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny
As well as another body?
And here's a leg for a stocking,
And here is a leg for a shoe,
And he has a kiss for his daddy,
And two for his mammy, I trow.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny,
As well as another body?
CXLVIII.
As I was walking o'er little Moorfields,
I saw St. Paul's a running on wheels,
With a fee, fo, fum.
Then for further frolics I'll go to France.
While Jack shall sing and his wife shall dance,
With a fee, fo fum.
CXLIX.
He'll sit in a barn,
And to keep himself warm,
Will hide his head under his wing.
Poor thing!
CL.
[From W. Wager's play, called 'The longer thou livest, the more foole thou art,' 4to, Lond.]
The white dove sat on the castle wall,
I bend my bow and shoot her I shall;
I put her in my glove both feathers and all;
I laid my bridle upon the shelf,
If you will any more, sing it yourself.
CLI.
Elsie Marley is grown so fine,
She won't get up to serve the swine,
But lies in bed till eight or nine,
And surely she does take her time.
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
The wife who sells the barley, honey;
She won't get up to serve her swine,
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
[Elsie Marley is said to have been a merry alewife who lived near Chester, and the remainder of this song relating to her will be found in the 'Chester Garland,' 12mo, n.d. The first four lines have become favourites in the nursery.]
CLII.
London bridge is broken down,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
London bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady.
How shall we build it up again?
Dance o'er my lady lee;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay lady.
Silver and gold will be stole away,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Silver and gold will be stole away,
With a gay lady.
Build it up again with iron and steel,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay lady.
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Build it up with wood and clay,
With a gay lady.
Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Wood and clay will wash away,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,
With a gay lady.
CLIII.
Old Father of the Pye,
I cannot sing, my lips are dry;
But when my lips are very well wet,
Then I can sing with the Heigh go Bet!
[This appears to be an old hunting song. Go bet is a very ancient sporting phrase, equivalent to go along. It occurs in Chaucer, Leg. Dido, 288.]
CLIV.
[Part of this is in a song called 'Jockey's Lamentation,' in the 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' 1719, vol. v, p. 317.]
Tom he was a piper's son,
He learn'd to play when he was young,
But all the tunes that he could play,
Was, "Over the hills and far away;"
Over the hills, and a great way off,
And the wind will blow my top-knot off.
Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleas'd both the girls and boys,
And they stopp'd to hear him play,
"Over the hills and far away."
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,
That those who heard him could never keep still;
Whenever they heard they began for to dance,
Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.
As Dolly was milking her cow one day,
Tom took out his pipe and began for to play;
So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round,"
Till the pail was broke, and the milk ran on the ground.
He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs,
He used his pipe, and she used her legs;
She danced about till the eggs were all broke,
She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke.
He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass,
Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass;
He took out his pipe and played them a tune,
And the jackass's load was lightened full soon.
