[Mike Slippkauskas]

Sorry if this has been mentioned already. No poet should go without the work of Iona and Peter Opie: in nursery rhyme, fairy story and the habits of children. The great New York Review Books has reprinted their Lore and Language of Schoolchildren. One of the most fun aspects of this book are the scholarly maps of England with titles like "Districts where children customarily roll eggs at Easter," "Truce terms in Great Britain" and "Mardy area." (Mardy=spoiled child or cry-baby, hence "Mardy area" is the great central band of England where children taunt (or once taunted) others with "Mardy, mardy mustard, can't eat custard!")

There is, needless to say, a whole chapter on counting rhymes.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

Thanks, Mike, for making me aware of the Opies. What a treasure-trove!

Cally

[Esther Murer]

Holding baby by the arms on lap facing you, jiggling knees up and down:

Trot trot to Boston,
Trot trot to Lynn,
Look out, little [baby's name],
Don't fall IN!

(On "In," spread knees slightly and lean forward so baby dips between knees.)

Jump rope rhymes:

Down in the valley where the green grass grows,
There sat [Sally] as sweet as a rose [girl who is jumping]
Along came [Peter] and kissed her on the nose,
How many kisses did she get?

--

Parkinson, Parkinson sat on a pin.
How many inches did it go in?

--

Mabel, Mabel, set the table,
Don't forget the red - hot -
Pepper! (twirling fast)

--

And then these old nonsense favorites:

Ladies and gentlemen, horses and mules,
Four-legged baby piano stools,
I come before you to stand behind you
To tell you something I know nothing about.
This Thursday, being Good Friday,
There will be a ladies' meeting for men only.
Admission free, pay at the door,
Pull up a chair and sit on the floor.

--
'Twas midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight.
I stopped into a cigar store To ask them for a light.
The man behind the counter was a woman old and gray,
who used to peddle donuts on the road to Mandalay.
She said, "Good morning, stranger," and her eye was dry with tears.
She stuck her head beneath her foot and stayed that way for years.
Her children were all orphans, except one tiny tot
who had a house across the street upon a vacant lot.
"Women and children first," he said, as he passed his plate for more.
He took his hat from off the hook and hung it on the floor.

Esther

[Gail White]

What brought this suddenly back from the year 2006??

Whatever.

Anyone who has ever seen "The Gondoliers" knows this one:

My papa he keeps three horses,
Black and white and dapple gray, sir.
Turn three times then take your courses,
Catch whichever girl you may, sir!

[Gail White]

Originally Posted by fivefootone

Anyone remember this one? We did a hand claping game to it. My eyes have been opened to the subject matter as I type this!


Miss Suzy had a baby
she named him Tiny Tim
She put him in the bathtub
to she if he could swim

He drank up all the water
and ate up all the soap
He tried to eat the bathtub
but it wouldn't go down his throat

Apropos of this, here is a classic music hall song. We were once thrown out of a pub in Dersingham for singing it. ("We ain't got no bloody singing license, mate.")

You have to picture the Cockney accent:

A mother was washing her baby one night,
The youngest of 10 and a delicate mite,
The mother was poor and the baby was thin,
'Twas naught but a skellington covered with skin.
The mother turned round for the soap off the rack --
Only a moment -- but when she looked back
Her baby was gone! And in anguish she cried,
"Ow where has my baby gone?" The angels repli-ied:

"Your baby has gone down the plug hole,
Your baby has gone down the plug.
The poor little thing was so skinny and thin
It ought to be washed in a jug.
Your baby is perfectly happy.
He won't need a bath any more.
He's a-mucking about with the angels above--
Not lost, but gone before!"

[Gordon Dodd]

Originally Posted by David Anthony

Yes, indeed. This was our local version:

Ring a ring o'roses
A pocketful of posies
atishoo, atishoo
We all fall down.

It's a folk memory of the Black Death, I believe.

This was a favourite of my Dad (ex UK)
Mother, may I go down to bathe?
Yes, my darling daughter,
Hang your clothes on a gooseberry bush
But don't go near the water!
also:
Round and round the garden
Like a teddy bear
One step; two steps
Tickley under there

My Mother (Ex Scotland) taught us:
Roond aboot, roond aboot
Ran a wee mouse (moose)
Up a bit, up a bit
In a wee house (hoos).

I wish I could track down this poem of my Dad:
Out among the mountain bracken
Where the little foxgloves grow
Lived a lonely goblin
Thinking of what he could do.
I can gather mountain berries
I can make them into jam
??????
Gordon
I'm beginning to get the hang of Eratosphere, with the emphasis on beginning.

[David Anthony]

This is an interesting thread from years ago.
Alex contacted me once to say a woman wanted to use it as the basis for a book. She said she'd amend the racist and obscene verses. I said, fine by me, on condition she bowdlerized nothing. I never heard back, so presume she didn't go ahead.