Pop Goes the Weasel: The Secret Meanings of Nursery Rhymes Read online

  Slugs and snails and puppy dogs’ tails,

  That’s what little boys are made of.

  What are little girls made of?

  What are little girls made of?

  Sugar and spice and all things nice,

  That’s what little girls are made of.

  This well-known rhyme is part of a much longer work credited to the English poet Robert Southey (1774-1843) and called ‘What All the World Is Made Of, written around 1820.

  After a revolutionary youth – at one stage, he and fellow poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge planned to set up a utopian community in America – Robert Southey became part of the establishment. Made Poet Laureate in 1813, he was very famous in his lifetime. His popular biography of Lord Nelson re-established a rather scandalous figure as one of England’s great heroes. Southey took himself and his writing extremely seriously, so, like Longfellow (see There Was a Little Girl), he would have been horrified to learn that his nonsensical jingle for children is now his best-known poem.

  The remaining verses of the rhyme – the language updated from that of Southey’s original poem – go like this:

  What are little babies made of?

  What are little babies made of?

  Nappies and crumbs and sucking their thumbs,

  That’s what little babies are made of.

  What are young men made of?

  What are young men made of?

  Sighs and leers and crocodile tears,

  That’s what young men are made of.

  What are young women made of?

  What are young women made of?

  Rings and jings and other fine things,

  That’s what young women are made of.

  What are our sailors made of?

  What are our sailors made of?

  Pitch and tar, pig-tail and scar,

  That’s what our sailors are made of.

  What are our soldiers made of?

  What are our soldiers made of?

  Pipeclay and drill, the foeman to kill,

  That’s what our soldiers are made of.

  What are our nurses made of?

  What are our nurses made of?

  Bushes and thorns and old cow’s horns,

  That’s what our nurses are made of.

  What are our fathers made of?

  What are our fathers made of?

  Pipes and smoke and collars that choke,

  That’s what our fathers are made of.

  What are our mothers made of?

  What are our mothers made of?

  Ribbons and laces and sweet pretty faces,

  That’s what our mothers are made of.

  What are old men made of?

  What are old men made of?

  Slippers that flop and a bald-headed top,

  That’s what old men are made of.

  What are old women made of?

  What are old women made of?

  Reels, and jeels and old spinning wheels,

  That’s what old women are made of.

  What is all the world made of?

  What is all the world made of?

  Fighting a spot and loving a lot,

  That’s what all the world’s made of.

  Who Killed Cock Robin?

  WHO killed Cock Robin?

  I, said the Sparrow,

  With my bow and arrow,

  I killed Cock Robin.

  Who saw him die?

  I, said the Fly,

  With my little eye,

  I saw him die.

  Pop Goes the Weasel

  Who caught his blood?

  I, said the Fish,

  With my little dish,

  I caught his blood.

  Who will make the shroud?

  I, said the Beetle,

  With my thread and needle,

  I’ll make the shroud.

  Who will dig his grave?

  I, said the Owl,

  With my pick and shovel,

  I will dig his grave.

  Who will be the parson?

  I, said the Rook,

  With my little book,

  I shall be the parson.

  Who will be the clerk?

  I, said the Lark,

  If it is not in the dark,

  I will be the clerk.

  Who will carry the link?

  I, said the Linnet,

  I will fetch it in a minute,

  I’ll carry the link.

  Who will be chief mourner?

  I, said the Dove,

  I mourn for my love,

  I will be chief mourner.

  Who will carry the coffin?

  I, said the Kite,

  If it’s not through the night,

  I will carry the coffin.

  Who will bear the pall?

  We, said the Wren,

  Both the cock and the hen,

  We’ll bear the pall.

  Who will sing a psalm?

  I, said the Thrush

  As she sat on a bush,

  I will sing a psalm.

  Who will toll the bell?

  I, said the Bull,

  Because I can pull,

  I will toll the bell.

  All the birds of the air

  Fell a-sighing and a-sobbing

  When they heard the bell toll

  For poor Cock Robin.

  A tragic tale told in timeless language, ‘Who Killed Cock Robin?’ is in some ways more akin to a folksong than a nursery rhyme. Like many rhymes, however, it has a repetitive format that creates a cumulative effect (see For Want of a Nail and This is the House That Jack Built), as the various birds are listed, along with their rhyming actions. But is the rhyme more than just a glorified avian roll-call?

  As so often with traditional songs and rhymes, various theories about this one’s origins abound but with little evidence to back them up. The most popular of these suggests that the song is about the death of the folk hero Robin Hood, or ‘Cocky Robin’, and that all the birds and animals of Sherwood Forest are mourning him. However, the only link between the famous outlaw and the rhyme lies in the name Robin and in the connection with archery; the stories are otherwise very different. According to the legend, Robin Hood dies at the hands of a prioress, his cousin, who bleeds him to death. By the time Little John, his right-hand man, gets to him, he’s already dying. With one final burst of strength, he shoots an arrow out of the tower window to the spot where he wishes to be buried, and then he promptly passes away.

  Another theory concerns the story of William Rufus, son of William the Conqueror and king of England from 1087 to 1100, who was mysteriously shot with an arrow while hunting in the New Forest. The Rufus Stone, erected in 1865, marks the spot where he was supposedly killed, but there’s little evidence of any connection between his death and the nursery rhyme.

  The rhyme was first published in 1744, and it has been argued that it is actually a political poem about the downfall of Robert Walpole’s government two years earlier. However, its language and content suggest it is a lot older than that.

  But the most likely interpretation harks back to medieval folk beliefs about the robin. Traditionally the bird got its red breast from trying to wipe the blood away from the face of Jesus on the cross. Hence from the Middle Ages onwards, the robin was seen as a symbol of Christ. The poem is also strikingly ritualistic. The important events are the death and funeral of Cock Robin – there is no blame or retribution. It was once commonly believed (indeed, Thomas Hardy wrote a poem about it – ‘The Oxen’) that all farmyard animals knelt at midnight on Christmas Eve to celebrate Christ’s birth. Echoing this, the rhyme shows animals mourning his death on Good Friday.

  TRADITIONAL SONGS AND ANTHEMS

  Amazing Grace

  AMAZING grace, how sweet the sound

  That saved a wretch like me!

  I once was lost, but now

  I’m found, Was blind, but now I see.

  ’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

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nbsp; And grace my fear relieved;

  How precious did that grace appear,

  The hour I first believed!

  Through many dangers, toils and snares,

  I have already come;

  ’Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,

  And grace will lead me home.

  The Lord has promised good to me,

  His Word my hope secures;

  He will my shield and portion be,

  As long as life endures.

  Yes, when this heart and flesh shall fail,

  And mortal life shall cease,

  I shall possess, within the veil,

  A life of health and peace.

  The world shall soon dissolve like snow,

  The sun forbear to shine;

  But God, who called me here below,

  Shall be forever mine.

  ‘Amazing Grace’ is one of the most popular and easily recognizable Christian hymns, but its strong connections with slavery are not so well known. And nor is the name of the man who wrote the lyrics.

  John Newton was born in London on 24 July 1725, the son of a ship master. He first joined his father at sea in 1736, aged only eleven, his father’s plan being for the youngster to become a slave master on a plantation in the West Indies in due course. But this, like all best-laid plans, went astray a few years later when Newton was seized by a press gang and forced aboard a ship, the HMS Harwich, bound for Africa. After attempting to escape, the nineteen-year-old was clamped in irons, flogged in front of the 350-man crew and placed on a slave ship, where he was treated very harshly for the next three years. Eventually Newton was rescued by a friend of his father, who had asked him to ‘keep an eye out’ for his missing son. On the journey back to England aboard another slave ship, the Greyhound, they encountered a severe storm that nearly wrecked the vessel. During the night, as the boat’s hull filled with water, Newton prayed for salvation and the storm, which had raged for many days, finally subsided, so that the ship and its crew were saved. It was 10 March 1748, a date Newton was to celebrate for the rest of his days.

  The incident changed Newton’s life, convincing him of God’s grace and turning him to Christianity (I once was lost, but now am found), and from then onwards he avoided

  drinking, gambling and any form of profanity. It also changed his attitude towards the brutal slave trade; still sailing along the slave routes, he did not challenge slave trafficking – or not until many years later – but ensured that his human cargo was well treated during the voyage. When illness forced him to retire from the sea in 1754, he followed his spiritual leanings and became curator of Olney Church in Buckinghamshire. In 1772, Newton wrote ‘Amazing Grace’ about his near-death experience aboard the Greyhound and his subsequent conversion. The following year, he became rector of St Mary Woolchurch in London where, among his new congregation, he met William Wilberforce who, under the rector’s influence, was to become the driving force and leader of the movement to abolish slavery.

  God Save the Queen

  GOD save our gracious Queen,

  Long live our noble Queen,

  God save the Queen!

  Send her victorious,

  Happy and glorious,

  Long to reign over us;

  God save the Queen!

  Thy choicest gifts in store

  On her be pleased to pour;

  Long may she reign.

  May she defend our laws,

  And ever give us cause

  To sing with heart and voice,

  God save the Queen!

  The expression ‘God save the king’ first appeared in print in the King James Bible in 1611 but is thought to have been a catchphrase of the Royal Navy as early as 1545. In 1739, the composer Thomas Augustine Arne (1710-78), who also

  created ‘Rule Britannia’, wrote an early version of the words and set them to music to be performed at a dinner in 1740 in London to celebrate the first victory in the War of Jenkins’ Ear.

  Both ‘Rule Britannia’ and ‘God Save the King’ were intended to encourage patriotic support for George II at a troubled time in English history. The War of Jenkins’ Ear with Spain – sparked off by one Robert Jenkins, the captain of a smuggling vessel whose ear was supposedly severed in a tussle with the Spanish coastguard – was just about to escalate into the War of the Austrian Succession. Meanwhile, back at home, there was the Second Jacobite Rebellion to contend with – one of two uprisings aimed at restoring Stuart kings to the British throne; an army led by the Young Pretender, 25-year-old Bonnie Prince Charlie, attacked and initially defeated the king’s men at the Battle of Prestonpans (see also Elsie Marley, The Lion and the Unicorn and The Skye Boat Song).

  The song first appeared in print on 15 October 1745, when it was published in The Gentlemen’s Magazine, and billed as ‘God save our lord the king: A new song set for two voices’. The current official version has been in use since 1919 courtesy of King George V, who, due to the number of times he had heard it played, considered himself to be ‘something of an expert’, and in 1933 a proclamation was issued, setting out the melody, tempo and orchestration that has been in use ever since.

  Good King Wenceslas

  GOOD King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,

  When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;

  Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,

  When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

  ‘Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know’st it, telling,

  Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?’

  ‘Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;

  Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.’

  ‘Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither;

  Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.’

  Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,

  Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

  ‘Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;

  Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.’

  ‘Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread thou in them boldly;

  Thou shalt find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.’

  In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;

  Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.

  Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,

  Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

  This popular Christmas carol was written by John Mason Neale (1819-66), warden of Sackville College in Sussex. He was inspired by the legend of Wenceslas I, Duke of Bohemia (907-35) – patron saint of the Czech Republic. Wenceslas was a Christian and the carol stresses his virtue and religious humility, but these are more the stuff of legend than strictly accurate. He was canonized less for leading an exemplary life than for the manner of his death –murdered at the age of twenty-eight in a plot orchestrated by his younger brother – and because of the various miracles that were supposed to have taken place shortly after he died.

  Czech legend has it that (like King Arthur) he sleeps with a huge army of knights, in the Blaník Mountain, and will awake to defend the nation should it ever be in direst need. There is also a tradition in Prague which states that when the Motherland is in its darkest hour and close to ruin, the equestrian statue of King Wenceslas in Wenceslas Square will come to life and wake the army slumbering beneath the mountain. Although, after sleeping through the whole of the Second World War and the Russian invasion of 1968, this army is clearly quite hard to rouse.

  The Hokey Cokey

  YOU put your right hand in,

  You put your right hand out,

  You put your right hand in

  And you shake it all about.

  You do the Hokey Cokey

  And you turn around;

 
; That’s what it’s all about.

  You put your left hand in,

  You put your left hand out,

  You put your left hand in

  And you shake it all about.

  You do the Hokey Cokey

  And you turn around;

  That’s what it’s all about.

  You put your right leg in,

  You put your right leg out,

  You put your right leg in

  And you shake it all about.

  You do the Hokey Cokey

  And you turn around;

  That’s what it’s all about.

  You put your left leg in,

  You put your left leg out,

  You put your left leg in

  And you shake it all about.

  You do the Hokey Cokey

  And you turn around;

  That’s what it’s all about.

  A popular party song the world over, this always reminds me of the story of the poor chap who wrote it and the day they buried him. Apparently, after preparing his body at the funeral parlour, they tried to lift him into a coffin. But as soon as they put his left leg in everything went wrong for them.

  The general belief is that Charles Macak, Tafit Baker and Larry LaPrise wrote the American version of the song, ‘The Hokey Pokey’, in 1949 to entertain skiers at the Sun Valley resort in Idaho, USA. But the song is older than that. For a start, ‘The Hokey Cokey’ was a well-known British wartime music-hall song, first credited to Jimmy Kennedy, the composer of other enduring hits such as ‘Teddy Bears’ Picnic’. British bandleader Gerry Hoey also claimed authorship in 1940 of a similar tune, ‘The Hoey Oka’.