Comparative Studies in Nursery Rhymes Part 5

Great bell: Our owne, our owne.

CHAPTER V

RHYMES AND BALLADS

Various nursery pieces deal with material which forms the subject of romantic ballads also. Romantic ballads, like popular songs, are preserved in a number of variations, for they were sung again and again to suit the modified taste of succeeding ages. Many romantic ballads retain much that is pre-Christian in disposition and sentiment. The finest collection of romantic ballads during recent times was made by Child,[24] who included the fireside versions of ballads that have come down to us through nursery literature. Child puts forward the opinion that where we are in possession of a romantic and a fireside version of the same ballad, the latter is a late and degraded survival. But this hardly seems probable, considering that the nursery version of the tale is usually simpler in form, and often consists of dialogue only.

[24] Child, F. G., _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_ 1894.

In the estimation of Gregory Smith, the oldest extant examples of romantic ballads "do not date further back than the second and third quarter of the fifteenth century" (that is between 1425 and 1475), "since the way in which the incidents in these are presented, reflects the taste of that age."[25] This applies to romantic ballads that are highly complex in form. The fireside version of the same story may have flowed from the same source. The question hangs together with that of the origin of the ballad, which may have arisen in connection with dancing and singing, but the subject needs investigation.

[25] Smith, G., _The Transition Period_, 1897, p. 180, in Saintsbury, _Periods of European Literature_.

Among our famous early ballads is that of _The Elfin Knight_, the oldest printed copy of which is of 1670.

It begins as follows:--

My plaid awa', my plaid awa', And o'er the hill and far awa', And far awa' to Norrowa, My plaid shall not be blown awa'.

The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill, Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba, He blaws his horn both loud and shrill, The wind has blawn my plaid awa', He blows it east, he blows it west, He blows it where he liketh best.[26]

[26] Child, loc. cit., I, 6 ff.

The ballad goes on to describe how problems were bandied between the Elfin Knight and a lady. The one on whom an impossible task was imposed stood acquitted if he devised a task of no less difficulty, which must first be performed by his opponent. Such flytings go far back in literature. In this case the Elfin Knight staked his plaid, that is his life, on receiving the favour of the lady, and he propounded to her three problems, viz. of making a sack without a seam, of washing it in a well without water, and of hanging it to dry on a tree that never blossomed. In reply, she claimed that he should plough an acre of land with a ram's horn, that he should sow it with a peppercorn, and that he should reap it with a sickle of leather. The problems perhaps had a recondite meaning, and the ballad-monger probably found them ready to hand. For Child cites a version of the ballad in which the same flyting took place between a woman and "the auld, auld man," who threatened to take her as his own, and who turned out to be Death. The idea of a wooer staking his life on winning a lady is less primitive than that of Death securing a victim.

The same tasks without their romantic setting are preserved in the form of a simple dialogue, in the nursery collections of _c._ 1783 and 1810.

In this case also it is the question of a wooer.

_Man speaks._

Can you make me a cambrick shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, Without any seam or needlework?

And you shall be a true lover of mine.

Can you wash it in yonder well? Parsley, etc., Where never spring water or rain ever fell.

Can you dry it on yonder thorn, Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?

_Maiden speaks._

Now you have asked me questions three, I hope you will answer as many for me.

Can you find me an acre of land, Between the salt water and the sea sand?

Can you plow it with a ram's horn, And sow it all over with peppercorn?

Can you reap it with a sickle of leather, And bind it up with a peac.o.c.k's feather?

When you have done and finished your work, Then come to me for your cambrick shirt. (_c._ 1783, p. 10.)

On the face of it, it hardly seems likely that this version is descended from the romantic ballad.

The tasks that are here imposed on the man are set also in the form of a boast in a nursery song, in which they have so entirely lost their meaning as to represent a string of impossibilities.

My father left me three acres of land, Sing sing, sing sing, My father left me three acres of land, Sing holly, go whistle and sing.

I ploughed it with a ram's horn, And sowed it with one pepper corn.

I harrowed it with a bramble bush, And reaped it with a little pen knife.

I got the mice to carry it to the mill, And thrashed it with a goose's quill.

I got the cat to carry it to the mill, The miller swore he would have her paw, And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.

(_N. & Q._, VII. 8.)

Another nursery piece is recorded by Halliwell which, in simple form relates concerning _Billy my son_ the sequence of events which underlies the famous romantic ballad of Lord Randal.[27] The story is current also in Scotland relating to _The Croodin Doo_ (1870, p. 51); it was told also some eighty years ago in Lincolnshire, of _King Henry my son_ (_N.

& Q._, 8, VI, 427). The romantic ballad in five verses, as told of Lairde Rowlande, relates how he came from the woods weary with hunting and expecting death. He had been at his true love's, where he ate of the food which poisoned his warden and his dogs. In the nursery version the tragedy is told in the following simple form:--

Where have you been to-day, Billy my son?

Where have you been to-day, my only man?-- I've been a wooing, mother; make my bed soon, For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lie down.

What have you ate to-day, Billy my son?

What have you ate to-day, my only man?-- I've eat eel pie, mother; make my bed soon, For I am sick at heart, and shall die before noon. (1849, p. 259.)

[27] _Ibid._, I, 157: Lord Randal.

Other nursery pieces deal with Tommy Linn, the Tam Linn of romance, who is the hero of many famous romantic ballads. The name of Tam Linn goes some way back in history. For the _Tayl of young Tamlene_, according to Vedderburn's _Complaint of Scotland_, of 1549, was told among a company of shepherds, and the name appears also as that of a dance, _A Ballett of Thomalyn_, as far back as 1558.[28]

[28] _Ibid._, I, 256: Tamlene.

According to the romantic ballads, Tam Linn fell under the influence of the fairies through sleeping under an apple tree, and they threatened to take him back as their own on Hallowe'en, when they rode abroad once in seven years and had the right to claim their due. Tam Linn told the woman who loved him that she must hold him fast, whatever shape he a.s.sumed owing to the enchantment of the witches, and that she must cast him into water as soon as he a.s.sumed the shape of a _gled_. He would then be restored to human form.

Tam Linn of romance figures in nursery lore as Tommy Linn. His exploits were printed by Halliwell in one of the numerous versions that are current in the north. In these pieces Tommy Linn has only this in common with Tam Linn of romance, that he too is ready with a suggestion whatever mishap befalls.

Tommy Linn is a Scotchman born, His head is bald and his beard is shorn; He has a cap made of a hare skin, An alderman is Tommy Linn.

Tommy Linn has no boots to put on, But two calves' skins and the hair it was on.

They are open at the side and the water goes in, Unwholesome boots, says Tommy Linn.

Tommy Linn had no bridle to put on, But two mouse's tails that he put on.

Tommy Linn had no saddle to put on, But two urchins' skins and them he put on.

Tommy Linn's daughter sat on the stair, O dear father, gin I be not fair?

The stairs they broke and she fell in, You're fair enough now, says Tommy Linn.

Tommy Linn had no watch to put on, So he scooped out a turnip to make himself one; He caught a cricket and put it within, It's my own ticker, says Tommy Linn.

Tommy Linn, his wife, and wife's mother, They all fell into the fire together; Oh, said the topmost, I've got a hot skin, It's hotter below, says Tommy Linn. (1849, p. 271.)

Several short nursery rhymes are taken from this, or other versions of this poem. Among the pieces printed by Chambers we read--

Tam o' the Lin and his bairns, Fell i' the fire in others' arms!

Oh, quo' the bunemost, I ha'e a hot skin!!

It's hotter below, quo' Tam o' the Lin!!! (1870, p. 33.)