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Pop Goes the Weasel: The Secret Meanings of Nursery Rhymes
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By the Same Author
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POP GOES
THE WEASEL
The Secret Meanings of
Nursery Rhymes
ALBERT JACK
Illustrated by Lara Carlini
ALLEN LANE
an imprint of
PENGUIN BOOKS
ALLEN LANE
Published by the Penguin Group
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First published 2008
1
Copyright © Albert Jack, 2008
Illustrations copyright © Lara Carlini, 2008
Albert Jack supports the MacKinnon Trust, a registered charity working to
raise public awareness about mental health issues such as schizophrenia and
the care needed by those who suffer and their families, www.mackinnontrust.org
Albert Jack’s website is www.albertjack.com
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright
reserved above, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior
written permission of both the copyright owner and
the above publisher of this book
978-0-14-190930-1
This book is dedicated to my mum in Guildford,
Sheila Podmore, because every mum should have
a book dedicated to her at least once in her life.
In fact, let me do it for you. This book is
dedicated to your mum, too:
………………………………
(insert name here)
Contents
Introduction
Acknowledgements
Nursery Rhymes
An Apple a Day
As I Was Going by Charing Cross
As I Was Going to St Ives
Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
Bessy Bell and Mary Gray
The Big Ship Sails on the Ally-Ally-Oh
The Blind Men and the Elephant
Bobby Shafto
Boys and Girls, Come Out to Play
Christmas Is Coming
The Cutty Wren
Ding, Dong, Bell
Doctor Foster
Elsie Marley
Flour of England
For Want of a Nail
Frère Jacques
A Frog He Would A-Wooing Go
Georgie Porgie
Good King Arthur
Goosie, Goosie Gander
The Grand Old Duke of York
Hark, Hark, the Dogs Do Bark
Hector Protector
Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush
Hey Diddle Diddle
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Higgledy, Piggledy, My Black Hen
Hot Cross Buns
The House That Jack Built
Humpty Dumpty
I Had a Little Nut Tree
In Marble Walls as White as Milk
Jack and Jill
Jack, Be Nimble
Jack Sprat
Ladybird, Ladybird
The Lion and the Unicorn
Little Bo Peep
Little Boy Blue
Little Jack Horner
Little Miss Muffet
Little Polly Flinders
Little Tommy Tucker
London Bridge Is Falling Down
London’s Burning
Lucy Locket
The Man in the Moon
The Man of Thessaly
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary
Monday’s Child
Needles and Pins
Old King Cole
Old Mother Hubbard
Oranges and Lemons
The Owl and the Pussycat
Polly Put the Kettle On
Poor Old Robinson Crusoe
Pop Goes the Weasel
Punch and Judy
Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat
The Queen of Hearts
Rain, Rain, Go Away
Red Sky at Night
Remember, Remember the Fifth of November
Ride a Cock Horse to Banbury Cross
Ring-a-Ring o’ Roses
Rock-a-Bye, Baby
Rub-a-Dub-Dub
See-Saw, Margery Daw
Simple Simon
Sing a Song of Sixpence
Solomon Grundy
Taffy Was a Welshman
There Was a Crooked Man
There Was a Little Girl
There Was a Little Guinea Pig
There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe
Three Acres of Land
Three Blind Mice
Tom, Tom, the Piper’s Son
Turn Again, Whittington
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Wee Willie Winkie
What Are Little Boys Made Of?
Who Killed Cock Robin?
Traditional Songs and Anthems
Amazing Grace
God Save the Queen
Good King Wenceslas
The Hokey Cokey
I Saw Three Ships
Jerusalem
The Miller of Dee
The Skye Boat Song
The Star-Spangled Banner
Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
Yankee Doodle Dandy
Sources
Index
Introduction
I first had the idea of studying the history of nursery rhymes about ten years ago. But at the time, the idea of trawling through history to discover the origins of our favourite nursery rhymes and analyse their meanings, obvious or hidden, was one I didn’t altogether relish, to be honest. After all, what could possibly be interesting about a short, fat boy called Humpty or Dumpty, who lived a long, long time ago and who fell off his wall? Or, for that matter, how much fun can you have with three blind mice being chased around the kitchen by a farmer’s wife? Surely that has happened on farms across the land since knives were first hacked out of flint? And why would anybody, in this case me, want to create a book full of stories such as the one about Jack Horner, a little boy who shoved his thumb into a pie and stole a plum? What drama is there in that? Even I have done a spot of plum-ste
aling from pies, and I wasn’t a bad lad either.
But, instead, this has turned out to be the most rewarding piece of work I have done so far. Because once it becomes obvious that many nursery rhymes have been written about, or evolved from, particular historic events and then used as a means of passing important news around the countryside, simply by word of mouth, then the research becomes a fascinating study into a bygone way of life. For example, would you have expected Humpty Dumpty to be the name of one of King Charles I’s cannons located on top of a church tower at the Siege of Colchester in 1648 during the English Civil War? Operated by One-Eyed Thompson, a Royalist gunner, it successfully kept Cromwell’s forces at bay until the Parliamentarians managed to blow it off the tower, allowing them to take over the town. An important battle was lost (or won, depending on your viewpoint) and a turning point in history then marked by a rhyme, soon repeated in every village and every hamlet as news of the Roundheads’ victory spread throughout the land.
Or would you imagine for a moment that the three blind mice could be the Oxford Martyrs Latimer, Ridley and Cranmer, all burned at the stake for their faith, by the Farmer’s Wife, Mary I? Or what about who little Jack Horner really was, my personal favourite – the story of the steward to the Dean of Glastonbury, Thomas Horner, who was sent to see Henry VIII with a bowl full of property deeds disguised as a pie in an attempt to bribe the king? On the way to London, Horner, it is said, reached into the pie and a stole a plum piece of real estate for himself – a place called Mells Manor. And while some of the other stories behind the rhymes may well have been elaborated, embellished or even rewritten to suit events, in the case of ‘Little Jack Horner’ there really was a Thomas Horner at Glastonbury who took ownership of Mells Manor during the reign of Henry VIII and whose descendants still live there to this day. All in all, these so-called ‘nursery’ rhymes aren’t the innocent little songs for children they purport to be!
The research was the best part of the process as it introduced me to such figures as the sixteenth-century spider expert Dr Thomas Muffet and his daughter, Little Miss Muffet, or Henry VIII’s right-hand man Cardinal Wolsey, the likeliest candidate for Old Mother Hubbard. Not many of us have the chance to write about two such different individuals in the same week. The following week, a savvy London prostitute, Lucy Locket, made her appearance, accompanied by Prince Frederick (son of ‘mad’ king George III), the Grand Old Duke of York and blundering military commander who disastrously marched his men to the top of the hill, at Toucoing in northern France, where they were soundly defeated. The week after that, I was visiting some wonderful old London churches for the origins of Oranges and Lemons’ and becoming acquainted with the dark schemers who helped Richard III to power and whose careers may have inspired ‘Hey Diddle Diddle’.
The historical significance of children’s rhymes is often lost on most adults, let alone the children who learn them by heart almost as soon as they learn to say anything at all. For all of us, the first things we are taught, after learning how to talk, are nursery rhymes. Hence by the time we are adults, we will know the words to hundreds of them without ever being aware of their meaning or real importance. And they are important, in my view, because many of them tell the true tale of some of history’s darkest or most tragic events. Knowing the origins of a rhyme will help to preserve that piece of history, or the layers of stories that accrue around a centuries-old verse. It also provides a fascinating insight into how news of historical events was transmitted around the land long before the days of instant communication by telephone, radio, television or the internet.
The name forever associated with English nursery rhymes is ‘Mother Goose’, conjuring an image of a cheerful, well-upholstered countrywoman who makes up rhymes to entertain her large brood of equally cheerful children. The term, associated with no specific writer and current since the seventeenth century, became widespread largely thanks to a French book of fairy tales by Charles Perrault. Published in 1697 and best known by its subtitle, Contes de ma mère l’Oye (‘Tales of Mother Goose’), it was first translated into English in 1729, bringing to English readers the perennially popular tales of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Puss in Boots’. But it wasn’t until John Newbery produced a collection of rhymes called Mother Goose Melody in 1765 that ‘Mother Goose’ became inextricably linked with nursery rhymes. Newbery’s collection was hugely popular, helping to establish an indelible place for such rhymes in the hearts and minds of the British people.
As for proving the origins of each rhyme, I have searched high and low, near and far, in an attempt to root out the definitive answer – or as near definitive as possible. Sometimes I have agreed with previous researchers and at other times feel they may have missed vital information, but, by and large, where I have arrived at two or more possible conclusions I have presented every option, leaving it to the reader to make up his or her mind. After all, this book has not been written to start arguments in the pub about nursery rhymes. It is simply meant to be a bit of fun and give you something to talk about with friends and family. And hopefully buy for distant relatives at Christmas.
In the process of researching the rhymes, I looked into the origins of a few of our traditional songs – including ones from across the Pond. So, while not being nursery rhymes as such, I have included their origins anyway, chiefly because they interested me and because I am sure they will interest you too. Indeed, you will now be able to tell your American friends how their revered national anthem began life as a drinking song from a London dockside pub.
Along the way, I have learned some wonderful stories, but I have also suffered personally for this book and made some mistakes I can help you avoid. For instance, I began researching the origins of ‘Little Blue Betty’ (I was sure that it must have something to do with Queen Elizabeth I) through the tried and tested medium of libraries and bookshops, but found myself getting nowhere. So one day I had a go on the internet instead, but when my girlfriend later checked the browser history, she promptly packed her bags. Such are the sacrifices I have made for you, dear reader. The least you can do now is join me on a journey through history to make sense of the rhymes we have all been enjoying since we first learned how to communicate without pointing and shouting.
Albert Jack
Cape Town
May 2008
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Peter Gordon. Once again, there is a good reason for it, but I can’t tell you what it is. This time it would only embarrass me. To my sister Julie Willmott (she knows why), to Margeaux Dawe, little Reef, Paul and Gen Ryan, and Tony and Sheila Podmore.
Big thanks also to Paul March at Clintons in London and John Silbersack of the Trident Media Group in New York. Also to Nigel Harland, Caroline Harland and Tammy Green. To Lara Carlini for the fantastic illustrations and to Lisa Uga Carlini-Vidulin and Mel Roux in Cape Town.
The Penguin team must also receive huge credit for all the effort and hard work. And that’s my editor Georgina Laycock, publicist Thi Dinh, designer Lisa Simmonds, cover designer Richard Green, as well as Ruth Stimson, Alice Dawson, Ruth Pinkney and Taryn Jones, without whom the book would not have got out on time. And a special thank you to Kate Parker, my copy editor.
Finally, to all the people working in bookshops across the world. I have a feeling that there will be good times ahead despite the credit crunch. I am sure people will be buying more books for each other this year, as most of the CDs I hear these days are rubbish and DVDs too expensive. So let’s be positive and banish the blues by exercising the grey matter. After all, as you’ll soon see from the evidence of these nursery rhymes and songs, they had things far tougher in ‘the Good Old Days’…
NURSERY RHYMES
An Apple a Day
AN apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Apple in the morning, doctor’s warning.
Roast apple at night, starves the doctor outright.
Eat an apple at bed,
knock the doctor on the head.
Three each day, seven days a week, ruddy apple,
ruddy cheek.
The most surprising thing about this rhyme is that it wasn’t invented by the apple industry, or even the association of greengrocers, if there is such a thing. It evolved during the sixteenth century and has been used ever since (sometimes rather desperately) as part of parental propaganda to get children to eat their greens. But what’s interesting is the deep distrust of doctors and medical science it shows. Its advice is that doctors are to be avoided at all costs; they are only looking to make money out of you. Folk medicine (what we’d now call herbalism) was at odds with official medicine and often prescribed remedies that mirrored the result you’d be looking for. If you want a rosy, ruddy face then eat an apple; a red one, that is – green cheeks might necessitate a visit from the doctor after all.
As I Was Going by Charing Cross
AS I was going by Charing Cross
I saw a black man upon a black horse;
They told me it was King Charles the First,
Oh dear, my heart was ready to burst.
This rhyme (with its echo of Ride a Cock Horse to Banbury Cross) refers to the public execution of King Charles I on 30 January 1649 outside the palace of Whitehall, very close to Charing Cross. Following his capture and imprisonment by the Parliamentarians towards the end of the Civil War, Charles presented a huge problem to his captors. Alive, he posed a constant threat to their new state; dead, he would instantly become a hero. Eventually and reluctantly, they brought him to trial.
The lack of public support for the trial was painfully obvious, despite the harsh wording of the charge brought against him: ‘Out of a wicked design to erect and uphold himself with an unlimited and tyrannical power to rule according to his own will and to overthrow the rights and the liberties of the people of England.’ Showing the same arrogance that had brought on the Civil War, Charles refused even to answer the charge, believing that his own authority to rule had been given to him by God when he had been crowned and anointed, while the power wielded by those wishing to try him was simply that which grew out of a barrel of gunpowder. The court argued that no man was above the law, but when the king was duly found guilty, Richard Brandon, Hangman of London, summed up the general mood by refusing to carry out the task.