Part 30

XII. Mother, buy the milk-pail, mother, dear mother of mine. Where's the money to come from, children, dear children of mine? Sell father's feather bed, mother, dear mother of mine. Where's your father to sleep in? Father can sleep in the servant's bed. Where's the servant to sleep in? Servant can sleep in the pig-sty. Where's the pig to sleep in? The pig can sleep in the wash-tub. Where shall we wash our clothes? Wash our clothes at the sea-side. If our clothes should swim away? Then take a boat and go after them. O what should we do if the boat should sink? O then we should all of us be at an end.

--Swaffham, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

XIII. We want to buy a wash-pan, wash-pan, wash-pan, We want to buy a wash-pan, early in the morning.

Where will you get the money from, money from, money from? We'll sell my father's feather bed, feather bed, feather bed. Where will your father sleep? Father'll sleep in the boys' bed. Where will the boys sleep? Boys will sleep in the girls' bed. Where will the girls sleep? Girls will sleep in the pig-sty. Where will the pigs sleep? Pigs will sleep in the washing-pan.

--Cowes, Isle of Wight (Miss E. Smith)

XIV. Mother, may I buy some male-scales, mother, mother? Mother, may I buy some male-scales, gentle mother of mine? Where will the money come from, daughter, daughter? Sell my father's feather bed, mother, mother. Where will your father lie, daughter, daughter? Lie in the boys' bed, mother, mother. Where will the boys lie, daughter, daughter? Lie in the servants' bed, mother, mother. Where will the servants lie, daughter, daughter? Lie in the pig-sty, mother, mother. Where will the pigs lie, daughter, daughter? Lie in the washing-tub, mother, mother. Where will we wash our clothes, daughter, daughter? Wash them at the sea-side, mother, mother. Suppose the clothes should float away, daughter, daughter? Take a boat and bring them in, mother, mother. Suppose the boat would go too slow, daughter, daughter? Take a steamboat and bring them in, mother, mother. Suppose the steamboat would go too fast, daughter, daughter? Then take a rope and hang yourself, mother, mother.

--South Shields (Miss Blair, aged 9).

(_b_) One child stands apart and personates the Mother. The other children form a line, holding hands and facing the Mother. They advance and retire singing the first, third, and alternate verses, while the Mother, in response, sings the second and alternate verses. While the last verse is being sung the children all run off; the Mother runs after them, catches them, and beats them. Either the first or last caught becomes Mother in next game. In the Shropshire game the Mother should carry a stick. In the Norfolk version the Mother sits on a form or bank, the other children advancing and retiring as they sing. After the last verse is sung the children try to seat themselves on the form or bank where the Mother has been sitting. If they can thus get home without the Mother catching them they are safe. The Kentish game is played with two lines of children advancing and retiring. This was also the way in which the London version (A. B. Gomme) was played. In the version sent by Mr. H. S. May a ring is formed by the children joining hands. One child stands in the centre--she represents the Mother. The ring of children say the first, third, and every alternate verse. The child in the centre says the second, fourth, and alternate verses, and the game is played as above, except that when the Mother has said the last verse the children call out, "Good job, too," and run off, the Mother chasing them as above. The game does not appear to be sung.

(_c_) This game is somewhat of a cumulative story, having for its finish the making angry and tormenting of a mother. All the versions point to this. One interesting point, that of milk-pails, is, it will be seen, gradually losing ground in the rhymes. Milk-pails were pails of wood suspended from a yoke worn on the milkmaid's shoulders, and these have been giving place to present-day milk-cans. Consequently we find in the rhymes only four versions in which milk-pails are used. In two versions even the sense of milking-can has been lost, and the South Shields version, sent me by little Miss Blair, has degenerated into "male-scales," a thoroughly meaningless phrase. The Cowes version (Miss Smith) has arrived at "wash-pan." The "burden" of the Chirbury version is "a rea, a ria, a roses," and the Sheffield version is also remarkable: the "I, O, OM" refers, probably, to something now forgotten, or it may be the "Hi, Ho, Ham!" familiar in many nursery rhymes. The game seems to point to a period some time back, when milking was an important phase of the daily life, or perhaps to the time when it was customary for the maids and women of a village to go to the hilly districts with the cows (summer shealings) for a certain period of time. The references to domestic life are interesting. The scarcity of beds, the best or feather bed, and the children's bed, seeming to be all those available. The feather bed is still a valued piece of household furniture, and is considered somewhat of the nature of a heirloom, feather beds often descending from mother to daughter for some generations. I have been told instances of this. Gregor, in _Folk-lore of East of Scotland_, p. 52, describes the Scottish box-bed. The "truckle bed" and "footman's bed" probably refers to the small bed under a large one, which was only pulled out at night for use, and pushed under during the day. Illustrations of these beds and the children's bed are given in old tales. The proximity of the pig-sty to the house is manifest. The mention of washing-tubs calls to mind the large wooden tubs formerly always used for the family wash. Before the era of laundresses washing-tubs must have constituted an important part of the family plenishing. Washing in the rivers and streams was also a thing of frequent occurrence, hot water for the purpose of cleansing clothes not being considered necessary, or in many cases desirable. Chambers gives a version of the game (_Popular Rhymes_, p. 36) and also Newell (_Games_, p. 166). Another version from Buckingham is given by Thomas Baker in the _Midland Garner_, 1st ser., ii. 32, in which the mother desires the daughter to "milk in the washing-tub," and the words also appear very curiously tacked on to the "Three Dukes a-riding" game from Berkshire (_Antiquary_, xxvii. 195), where they are very much out of place.

Mineral, Animal, and Vegetable

A ball is thrown by one player to any one of the others. The thrower calls out at the same time either "mineral," "animal," or "vegetable," and counts from one to ten rather quickly. If the player who is touched by the ball does not name something belonging to that kingdom called before the number ten is reached, a forfeit has to be paid.--London (A. B. Gomme).

This is more usually called "Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral." See "Air, Fire, and Water."

Minister's Cat

The first player begins by saying, "The minister's cat is an ambitious cat," the next player "an artful cat," and so on, until they have all named an adjective beginning with A. The next time of going round the adjectives must begin with B, the next time C, and so on, until the whole of the alphabet has been gone through.--Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire (Miss Matthews); Anderby, Lincolnshire (Miss Peacock).

This is apparently the same game as the well-known "I love my love with an A because she is amiable." In this game every player has to repeat the same sentence, but using a different adjective, which adjective must begin with the letter A. Various sentences follow. At the next round the adjectives all begin with B; the next C, until a small story has been built up. Forfeits were exacted for every failure or mistake. The formula usually was--

I love my love with an A because she is (      ). I hate her with an A because she is (      ). I took her to the sign of the (      ), and treated her to (      ). The result was (      ).

Mollish's Land

Cornish name for "Tom Tiddler's Ground."--_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 57.

Monday, Tuesday

A game played with a ball. There are seven players, who each take a name from one of the days of the week. One (Sunday) begins by throwing the ball against a wall, calling out at the same time the name of one of the days, who has to run and catch it before it falls. If this one fails to catch the ball, the first player picks up the ball and tries to hit one of the six with it, who all endeavour to escape being hit. If the player succeeds, he again throws the ball against the wall, calling out another day of the week to catch it. If a player gets hit three times, he is out. The winner is he who has either not been hit at all or the fewest times, or who has been able to stay in the longest. The same game is played with twelve children, who are named after the twelve months of the year.--London and Barnes (A. B. Gomme); _Strand Magazine_, ii. 519 (F. H. Low).

This game belongs apparently to the ball games used for purposes of divination. Mr. Newell (_Games_, p. 181) describes a similar game to this, in which the player whose name is called drops the ball; he must pick it up as quickly as possible while the rest scatter. He then calls "Stand!" upon which the players halt, and he flings it at whom he pleases. If he misses his aim, he must place himself in a bent position with his hands against a wall until every player has taken a shot at him. The idea of naming children after the days of the week occurs also in the games of "Gipsy," "Witch," and "Mother, Mother, the Pot boils over."

See "Ball," "Burly Whush," "Keppy Ball."

Moolie Pudding

The game of "Deadelie;" one has to run with the hands locked and "taen" the others.--Mactaggart's _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_.

See "Chickidy Hand," "Deadelie," "Hunt the Staigie," "Whiddy."

More Sacks to the Mill

A very rough game, mentioned in Dean Miles' MS., p. 180 (Halliwell's _Dictionary_). Lowsley (_Berkshire Glossary_) says this is "a favourite game with children at Christmas-time, when wishing for one of a romping character," but he does not describe it further. Northall (_English Folk Rhymes_, p. 354) says that in Warwickshire and Staffordshire boys torture an unfortunate victim by throwing him on the ground and falling atop of him, yelling out the formula, "Bags to [on] the mill." This summons calls up other lads, and they add their weight.

Mother, may I go out to Play?

I. Mother, may I go out to play? No, my child, it's such a wet day. Look how the sun shines, mother. Well, make three round curtseys and be off away. [Child goes, returns, knocks at door. Mother says, "Come in."] What have you been doing all this time? Brushing Jenny's hair and combing Jenny's hair. What did her mother give you for your trouble? A silver penny. Where's my share of it? Cat ran away with it. Where's the cat? In the wood. Where's the wood? Fire burnt it. Where's the fire? Moo-cow drank it. Where's the moo-cow? Butcher killed it. Where's the butcher? Eating nuts behind the door, and you may have the nutshells.

--London (Miss Dendy, from a maid-servant).

II. Please, mother, may I go a-maying? Why, daughter, why? Because it is my sister's birthday. Make three pretty curtseys and walk away. Where is your may? I met puss, and puss met me, and puss took all my may away. Where is puss? Run up the wood. Where is the wood? Fire burnt it. Where is the fire? Water quenched it. Where is the water? Ducks have drunk it. Where are the ducks? Butcher killed them. Where is the butcher? Behind the churchyard, cracking nuts, and leaving you the shells.

--Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

III. Please, mother, may we go out to play? Yes, if you don't frighten the chickens. No, mother, we won't frighten the chickens. [They all go out and say, "Hush! hush!" to pretended chickens.] Where have you been? To grandmother's. What for? To go on an errand. What did you get? Some plums. What did you do with them? Made a plum-pudding. What did she give you? A penny. What did you do with it? Bought a calf. What did you do with it? Sold it. What did you do with the money? Gave it to the butcher, and he gave me a penny back, and I bought some nuts with it. What did you do with them? Gave them to the butcher, and he's behind the churchyard cracking them, and leaving you the shells.

--Sporle, Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

IV. Mother, mother, may I go to play? No, daughter, no! for fear you should stay. Only as far as the garden gate, to gather flowers for my wedding day. Make a fine curtsey and go your way. [They all curtsey and scamper off, and proceed to plan some mischief. Then they return.] Now where have you been? Up to Uncle John's. What for? Half a loaf, half a cheese, and half a pound of butter. Where's my share? Up in cupboard. 'Tisn't there, then! Then the cat eat it. And where's the cat? Up on the wood [_i.e._, the faggots]. And where's the wood? Fire burnt it. Where's the fire? Water douted it [_i.e._, put it out]. Where's the water? Ox drank it. Where's the ox? Butcher killed it. And where's the butcher? Behind the door cracking nuts, and you may eat the shells of them if you like.

--Dorsetshire (_Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 219).

V. Please may I go out to play? How long will you stay? Three hours in a day. Will you come when I call you? No. Will you come when I fetch you? Yes. Make then your curtseys and be off.

The girls then scamper off as before, and as they run about the field keep calling out, "I won't go home till seven o'clock, I won't go home till seven o'clock." After they have been running about for some five or ten minutes the Mother calls Alice (or whatever the name may be) to come home, when the one addressed will run all the faster, crying louder than before, "I won't go home till seven o'clock." Then the Mother commences to chase them until she catches them, and when she gets them to any

## particular place in the field where the others are playing, she says--

Where have you been? Up to grandmother's. What have you done that you have been away so long? I have cleaned the grate and dusted the room. What did she give you? A piece of bread and cheese so big as a house, and a piece of plum cake so big as a mouse. Where's my share? Up in higher cupboard. It's not there. Up in lower cupboard. It's not there. Then the cat have eat it. Where's the cat? Up in heath. Where's the heath? The fire burnt it.

[The rest is the same as in the last version, p. 393.]

--Dorsetshire (_Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 221-222).

VI. Mother, mother, may I (or we) go out to play? No, child! no, child! not for the day. Why, mother? why, mother? I won't stay long. Make three pretty courtesies, and away begone. One for mammy, one for daddy, one for Uncle John. Where, child! where, child! have you been all the day? Up to granny's. What have you been doing there?

[The answer to this is often, "Washing doll's clothes," but anything may be mentioned.]

What did she give you?

[The reply is again left to the child's fancy.]

Where's my share? The cat ate it [or, In the cat's belly]. What's in that box, mother? Twopence, my child. What for, mother? To buy a stick to beat you, and a rope to hang you, my child.

--Cornwall (_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 55, 56).

VII. Grandmother, grandmother grey, May I go out to play? No, no, no, it is a very wet day. Grandmother, grandmother grey, May I go out to play? Yes, yes, yes, if you don't frighten the geese away. Children, I call you. I can't hear you. Where are your manners? In my shoe. Who do you care for? Not for you.

--Earls Heaton, Yorks. (H. Hardy).

VIII. Pray, mother, pray, May I go out to play? No, daughter, no, daughter, Not every fine day. Why, mother, why? I shan't be gone long. Make a fine curtsey And glad git you gone.-- Wait for your sister.

--Hurstmonceux, Sussex (Miss Chase).

IX. Please, mother, please, mother, may I go out to play? No, child, no, child, 'tis such a cold day. Why, mother, why, mother, I won't stay long. Make three pretty curtseys and off you run.

--Northants (Rev. W. D. Sweeting).

(_b_) One girl is chosen to act as "Mother," the rest of the players pretend to be her children, and stand in front of her, not in a line, but in a group. One of them, very frequently all the children ask her the first question, and the Mother answers. When she gives permission for the children to go out they all curtsey three times, and run off and pretend to play. They then return, and the rest of the dialogue is said, the Mother asking the questions and the children replying. At the end of the dialogue the Mother chases and catches them, one after the other, pretending to beat and punish them. In the Northants and Hurstmonceux games there appears to be no chasing. In the London version (Miss Dendy) only two children are mentioned as playing. When the Mother is chasing the girl she keeps asking, "Where's my share of the silver penny?" to which the girl replies, "You may have the nut-shells." In the Cornish version, when the Mother has caught one of the children, she beats her and puts her hands round the child's throat as if she were going to hang her.

(_c_) Miss Courtney, in _Folk-lore Journal_, v. 55, says: "I thought this game was a thing of the past, but I came across some children playing it in the streets of Penzance in 1883." It belongs to the cumulative group of games, and is similar in this respect to "Milking Pails," "Mother, Mother, the Pot boils over," &c. There seems to be no other object in the game as now played except the pleasures of teasing and showing defiance to a mother's commands, and trying to escape the consequences of disobedience by flight, in order that the mother may chase them. The idea may be that, if she is "out of breath," she cannot chastise so much. Mr. Newell (_Games_, p. 172) gives versions of a similar game.

Mother Mop

All the players, except one, stand two by two in front of each other, the inner ones forming an arch with their hands united--this is called the "oven." The odd child is "Mother Mop." She busies herself with a pretended mop, peel, &c., after the manner of old-fashioned bakers, making much ado in the valley between the rows of children. The oven soon gets demolished, and the last child vanquished becomes "Mother Mop" the next time.--Bitterne, Hants (Mrs. Byford).

It seems probable that the inner rows of children should kneel or stoop down in order that "Mother Mop" should have as much trouble as possible with her oven. The game may have lost some of its details in other directions, as there is no apparent reason why the oven is demolished or broken down.

See "Jack, Jack, the Bread's a-burning."

Mother, Mother, the Pot Boils over

A number of girls choose one of their number to represent a witch, and another to be a mother. The Witch stands near the corner of a wall, so that she can peep round. Then the Mother counts the children by the seven days of the week, "Monday," "Tuesday," &c., and appoints another girl to act as guardian over them. She then pretends to go out washing, removing to a short distance so as to be within ear-shot of the other children. As soon as the Mother has gone, the old Witch comes and says, "Please, can I light my pipe?" Then the children say, "Yes, if you won't spit on t' hearth." She pretends to light her pipe, but spits on the hearth, and runs away with the girl called Sunday. Then the Guardian, among the confusion, pretends to rush down stairs, and, failing to find Sunday, calls out, "Mother, mother, t' pot boils over." The Mother replies, "Put your head in;" the Guardian says, "It's all over hairs;" the Mother says, "Put the dish-clout in;" the Guardian says, "It's greasy;" the Mother says, "Get a fork;" the Guardian says, "It's rusty;" the Mother says, "I'll come mysen." She comes, and begins to count the children, Monday, Tuesday, up to Saturday, and missing Sunday, asks, "Where's Sunday?" the Guardian says, "T' old Witch has fetched her." The Mother answers, "Where was you?" "Up stairs." The Mother says, "What doing?" "Making t' beds." "Why didn't you come down?" "Because I had no shoes." "Why didn't you borrow a pair?" "Because nobody would lend me a pair." "Why didn't you steal a pair?" "Do you want me to get hung?" Then the Mother runs after her, and if she can catch her thrashes her for letting Sunday go. Then the Mother pretends to go out washing again, and the Witch fetches the other days of the week one by one, when the same dialogue is rehearsed.--Dronfield, Derbyshire (S. O. Addy).

This game was also played in London. The _dramatis personæ_ were a mother, an eldest daughter, the younger children, a witch, and a pot was represented by another child. The Mother names the children after the days of the week. She tells her eldest daughter that she is going to wash, and that she expects her to take great care of her sisters, and to be sure and not let the old witch take them. She is also to look after the dinner, and be sure and not let the pot boil over. The Mother then departs, and stays at a little distance from the others. The eldest daughter pretends to be very busy putting the house to rights, sweeps the floor, and makes everything tidy; the younger children pretend to play, and get in the elder sister's way. She gets angry with them, and pretends to beat them. Now, the girl who personates the Witch comes and raps with her knuckles on a supposed door. The Witch stooped when walking, and had a stick to help her along.

Come in, says the eldest sister. What do you want? Let me light my pipe at your fire? My fire's out. Yes! if you'll not dirty the hearth. No, certainly; I'll be careful.

While the eldest sister pretends to look on the shelf for something, the Witch "dirties" the hearth, catches hold of Monday and runs off with her; and at this moment the pot boils over. The child who is the pot makes a "hissing and fizzing" noise. The daughter calls out--