Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales Part 24

He is from a cottager's stall, To a fine gilded hall.

The poor bird often dies under the ceremony, which tradition connects with the death of an ancient British king at the time of the Saxon invasion. The rhyme used in Ireland runs thus:

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, Was caught St. Stephen's day in the furze; Although he's little his family's great, Then pray, gentlefolks, give him a treat.

THE OWL.

To-whoo-to-whoo!

Cold toe-toe!

expresses the hooting of the owl. This bird, according to old ballads and legends, was of exalted parentage. A rural ballad, cited in Waterton's Essays on Natural History, 1838, p. 8, says:

Once I was a monarch's daughter, And sat on a lady's knee; But am now a nightly rover, Banished to the ivy tree.

Crying hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, Hoo, hoo, hoo, my feet are cold.

Pity me, for here you see me Persecuted, poor, and old.

An anonymous writer, in the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. lxxiv. p. 1003, mentions an old fairy tale respecting the owl, which, he says, is well known to the nurses of Herefordshire. A certain fairy, disguised as an old distressed woman, went to a baker's shop, and begged some dough of his daughter, of whom she obtained a very small piece. This she farther requested leave to bake in the oven, where it swelling to the size of a large loaf, the baker's daughter refused to let her have it. She, however, gave the pretended beggar another piece of dough, but still smaller than the first; this swelled in the oven even more than the other, and was in like manner retained. A third and still smaller piece of dough came out of the oven the largest of all, and shared the same fate. The disguised fairy, convinced of the woman's covetousness by these repeated experiments, no longer restrained her indignation. She resumed her proper form, and struck the culprit with her wand, who immediately flew out of the window in the shape of an owl. This story may be a version of the legend alluded to by Ophelia in Hamlet, iv. 5: "They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."

MAGPIES.

Wide-spread is the superst.i.tion that it is unlucky to see magpies under certain conditions, but these vary considerably in different localities.

Thus, in some counties, two bring sorrow, in others joy; while, in some places, we are instructed that one magpie is a signal of misfortune, which can, however, be obviated by pulling off your hat, and making a very polite bow to the knowing bird. This operation I have more than once seen quite seriously performed. In Lancashire they say:

One for anger, Two for mirth, Three for a wedding, Four for a birth, Five for rich, Six for poor, Seven for a witch, I can tell you no more.

But in Tim Bobbin it is expressly said that two are indicative of ill fortune: "I saigh two rott'n pynots, hongum, that wur a sign o' bad fashin; for I heard my gronny say hoode os leef o seen two owd harries os two pynots." The same belief obtains in Scotland. In the North they thus address the bird:

Magpie, magpie, chatter and flee, Turn up thy tail, and good luck fall me.

The half-nest of the magpie is accounted for by a rural ornithological legend. Once on a time, when the world was very young, the magpie, by some accident or another, although she was quite as cunning as she is at present, was the only bird that was unable to build a nest. In this perplexity, she applied to the other members of the feathered race, who kindly undertook to instruct her. So, on a day appointed, they a.s.sembled for that purpose, and, the materials having been collected, the blackbird said, "Place that stick there," suiting the action to the word, as she commenced the work. "Ah!" said the magpie, "I knew that afore." The other birds followed with their suggestions, but to every piece of advice, the magpie kept saying, "Ah! I knew that afore." At length, when the birdal habitation was half-finished, the patience of the company was fairly exhausted by the pertinacious conceit of the pye, so they all left her with the united exclamation, "Well, Mistress Mag, as you seem to know all about it, you may e'en finish the nest yourself." Their resolution was obdurate and final, and to this day the magpie exhibits the effects of partial instruction by her miserably incomplete abode.

The magpie is always called Madge, and the Christian names given to birds deserve a notice. Thus we have Jack Snipe, Jenny Wren, Jack Daw, Tom t.i.t, Robin Redbreast, Poll Parrot, Jill Hooter, Jack Curlew, Jack Nicker, and King Harry for the goldfinch, and the list might be widely extended. A starling is always Jacob, a sparrow is Philip, a raven is Ralph, and the consort of the Tom t.i.t rejoices in the euphonic name of Betty! Children give the name of d.i.c.k to all small birds, which, in nursery parlance, are universally d.i.c.kybirds.

WHO KILL'D c.o.c.k ROBIN.

Who kill'd c.o.c.k Robin?

I, said the sparrow, With my bow and arrow, I kill'd c.o.c.k Robin.

Who see him die?

I, said the fly, With my little eye, And I see him die.

Who catch'd his blood?

I, said the fish, With my little dish, And I catch'd his blood.

Who made his shroud?

I, said the beadle, With my little needle, And I made his shroud.

Who shall dig his grave?

I, said the owl, With my spade and showl,[42]

And I'll dig his grave.

[Footnote 42: Shovel. An archaism.]

Who'll be the parson?

I, said the rook, With my little book, And I'll be the parson.

Who'll be the clerk?

I, said the lark, If 'tis not in the dark, And I'll be the clerk.

Who'll carry him to the grave?

I, said the kite, If 'tis not in the night, And I'll carry him to his grave.

Who'll carry the link?

I, said the linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, And I'll carry the link.

Who'll be chief mourner?

I, said the dove, I mourn for my love, And I'll be chief mourner.

Who'll bear the pall?

We, said the wren, Both the c.o.c.k and the hen, And we'll bear the pall.

Who'll sing a psalm?

I, said the thrush, As she sat in a bush, And I'll sing a psalm.

And who'll toll the bell?

I, said the bull, Because I can pull; And so, c.o.c.k Robin, farewell!

All the birds in the air Fell to sighing and sobbing, When they heard the bell toll For poor c.o.c.k Robin!

The above version of this widely-extended poem is taken from a copy printed many years ago in Aldermary Churchyard, ent.i.tled, "c.o.c.k Robin, a pretty gilded _toy_ for either girl or _boy_, suited to children of all ages," 18mo. It is reprinted even at the present day with a few immaterial variations.

In Eccardi _Historia Studii Etymologici_, 8vo. Han. 1711, p. 269, is an old Wendic nursery ballad of a somewhat similar character. Perhaps the first verse will be sufficient to give the reader an idea of its composition.

Katy mes Ninka beyt?

Teelka mes Ninka beyt: Teelka ritzi Wapakka neimo ka dwemo: Gos giss wiltge grisna Sena, Nemik Ninka beyt; Gos nemik Ninka beyt.

Who, who, the bride will be?

The owl she the bride shall be.

The owl quoth, Again to them both, I am sure a grim ladye; Not I the bride can be, I not the bride can be!

CROWS.

In Ess.e.x they have a rhyme respecting crows very similar to that above quoted regarding magpies. The following lines are said to be true, if crows fly _towards_ you: