“Children’s lore is a fascinating mixture of the old and new, and of continuity and change. They will draw readily on the up-to-date mass media of the day, and in the next minute sing a tune hundreds of years old. They will play a game that is known the world over, but make a small change and claim it as their own. They can be sticklers for the rules, but willing to change them at a moment’s notice, if circumstances dictate. And all the time they are picking up, and passing on, the language and lore of their little community. Nigel Kelsey’s is without doubt the most comprehensive collection made in London in the later twentieth century, and it is especially valuable because he succeeded in capturing the children’s traditional world in all its wonderful chaos, colour, and irreverence. And he was experienced enough to provide an insightful commentary on the material he found. The editors of this book have done an excellent job organising the material and providing notes and references to other collections. The result is both a scholarly reference work for generations to come, and a joy to read in the present. I defy anyone who was a child between the 1960s and 1980s to read it without being transported back in time, and without exclaiming ‘We did that!’, or ‘That’s not how it goes, our version was ...’”
—Steve Roud, author of Folk Song in England (2016), The Lore of the Playground (2011), and co-author of A Dictionary of English Folklore (2000) amongst other works. He is the creator of the Folk Song Index and served as Honorary Librarian of the Folklore Society, UK
“It is really exciting that Nigel Kelsey’s collection of more than 2000 games, songs, wordplay, beliefs and practices, and other kinds of folklore from children in innercity London is about to be published. Between 1966 and 1984, as a primary school teacher, Kelsey gathered this material from preadolescents. The quality of his scholarship is outstanding; there are many significant analyses of the historical, cultural, developmental, and social dimensions of children’s folklore. With meticulous annotations, this collection constitutes a treasure trove of information and insights for scholars. It will also be of great interest to general readers who are interested in the dynamic transmission of children’s traditions.”
—Elizabeth Tucker, Distinguished Service Professor of English, Binghamton University, USA
“This book coheres with a long and honourable tradition of folkloric research and analysis. Its focus is the folklore of children – still a neglected field of academic study. The authors have built on the fieldwork of an earlier scholar to produce a learned historical, sociological and linguistic study of the playlore of children in inner London in the latter part of the twentieth century. They have connected their source material with relevant research undertaken in other countries, particularly English-speaking societies. It will interest all who seek to remember and explore the lore and language of children at play.”
—June Factor, Honorary Senior Fellow, University of Melbourne, Australia
N. G. N. Kelsey Author
Janet E. Alton • J. D. A. Widdowson
Editors and Annotators
Games, Rhymes, and Wordplay of London Children
Editors Janet E. Alton
Centre for English Traditional Heritage Edale, Hope Valley, UK
J. D. A. Widdowson
Centre for English Traditional Heritage Edale, Hope Valley, UK
ISBN 978-3-030-02909-8 ISBN 978-3-030-02910-4 (eBook)
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
FOREWORD
Nigel Kelsey’s opening line of the Introduction should stick with you. Or at least it has with me. He calls children’s lore “the most real and vigorous” of London’s contemporary oral traditions, and the ideas in the deceivingly simple phrase are worth thinking about. He likely meant to pin this tag on any contemporary city, raising a question about preconceptions concerning the vitality of traditional knowledge and practice, not only in the workaday city, but in the modern age always accelerating into the future. Because adults are wont to be embarrassed about acting “childish” and probably forgetting use of folklore in their own human development, Kelsey invites them to listen more closely to children’s voices and watch their actions so as to appreciate what a lively, “vigorous” world they create for themselves, and often hide from adults. Grownups might presume that media and urban centrality of society have displaced passing down traditions, and Kelsey further reminds them of children’s needs for social and psychological connection through folk expression. “Vigorous” is one of his favourite adjectives to describe children’s activities, probably to draw out a distinction often made between the rapidity of kids compared with the “settling down” process that comes with maturity and often is accompanied by a certain fatalistic longing for a past freedom of movement. Observers often describe the playground as chaotic, even dangerous, but Kelsey discerns a reassuring cultural order from a child’s eye view. What he saw, as well as heard, was not a rote reproduction of games,
rhymes, and stories that elders once experienced as children, but rather imaginative variations on old themes and vibrant new expressions using familiar formulas to comment on the world of the here and now as well as in their life journeys ahead. In light of some current debates about institutional restrictions, and even banishment, of recess (Beresin 2010), he finds a predictable commotion that instead of being condemned should be lauded for representing the exciting bloom of youth and studied for what children can teach adults rather than the other way around. Using the metaphor from physics of colliding particles, writers might call the sights and sounds of childhood “dynamic” and note the paradoxical fidelity to tradition at the same time that there is an urge to create anew. Looking from the vantage of the twenty-first century, we realise that the dynamic process he described is hardly a relic of the twentieth century; it continues with ever new trajectories into the digital age.
Why is this news? At least the part about the expressive culture of youth undoubtedly was hardly novel to the students he recorded. I know from my own collecting experience that they might have been guarded about spilling the beans on their cultural world with its distinctive, even secret, language, conduct, and codes, but at the same time appreciative that adults cared to listen rather than telling them what to do, and more often than not, what not to do (Bronner 1988). They are typically unaware of the vintage of their lore or the significance of their invented traditions. Yet they do often know that this lore matters, and can comment on its meaning and function. Indeed a newsworthy aspect of Kelsey’s collection is that he recorded what has been called “oral literary criticism” as well as the texts and contexts of the lore (Dundes 1966). These comments allow not just folklorists to dig deeper into the workings of tradition, but also parents, teachers, neighbours, counsellors—and adults who were once children—to grasp what kids are trying to tell about themselves, and us. Adults probably forgot the use of lore in childhood to organise and legislate themselves. They might recall with hurt the taunts, teases, and threats that separated as well as united them. They possibly remember the anxieties about the future expressed in divinations, rituals, and inscriptions, but lest they appear to affect their present, they might dismiss the lore too readily. Kelsey’s collection is a chance to
identify continuities, and discrepancies, of memory and an opportunity to conduct a life review or prepare to guide the next generation culturally and psychologically.
Kelsey is fairly transparent about his thinking behind “vigorous” in his opening line, but what about the “real”? Is he implying the existence of a “fake” folk culture in London and elsewhere? Kelsey certainly was not looking for children untouched by popular culture and he was not likely to find them even if he had. He did not shy away from lore informed by television and other media, and indeed his documentation of parodies and responses to popular shows is significant. He should be credited, too, with folk expressions among children generated by commercial sports. He was not, in other words, erecting a wall between folklore and modernity, but rather viewing folklore as part and parcel of contemporary society. He did not limit folklore to oral tradition, either, as his delineation of “pen and pencil games” and written inscriptions indicates. He was acutely aware, especially in the 1960s during a “folk revival”, that folklore was open to exploitation in tourist and sentimental literature, and Kelsey contrasted what he heard generated by children with literary productions imposed upon children. He garnered trust among his informants to give him risqué material, although he apparently buried some items he considered too offensive, which probably meant he was worried that since his informants were minors he could potentially have been in hot water with their parents. Sure, many collectors, including the famous husband-wife team of Iona and Peter Opie (1959, 1969), gave attention to indelicate games and rhymes, but what I find especially valuable is genres such as jokes, pranks, and parodies that are part of everyday discourse among youth, but are often overlooked or underestimated. I might nonetheless hold Kelsey to task for labelling some of them “just for fun” when in their use of humour and a “play frame”, they often broach a serious message. In sum, by “real” Kelsey asks us to look at the integration of folklore in everyday life rather than apart from it.
One indication of this integration is the ages of the youth from whom he collected. He notes that they mostly are between the ages of nine and eleven. Often anthologies of childlore associate any rhymes and games with a broad swath of childhood, and in the process render childhood in often romanticised terms as life before adulthood rather than in terms of
human development. Indeed, some parents as well as scholars might imagine that folklore arises early in life from a lack of literacy and formal education. Kelsey was impressed with the amount of material when the children were not only literate but well along in their schooling. Their education, reliant as it was on book culture, was not a reason to abandon reliance on oral tradition. Certainly there was more that he could have done with adolescents, but he implied that the tenor of the lore changed during the teen years away from games and rhymes, and more to social customs, probably owing to post-pubertal interests. He offers evidence to a theory I proposed in Explaining Traditions (2011) that youth in middle childhood in modern culture use folklore more so than other times in their lives to provide adjustment to the significant, if often overlooked, emotional, social, and physical changes associated with the pre-pubescent years. Social scientists as well as humanists have been slow to recognise the distinctiveness of this age, although in popular culture, it is sometimes referred to as the “tween” years. Indeed, the betwixt and between nature of the age between toddler and teen status lends a liminal status to the age that impels folkloric functions of dealing with anxiety and paradox in the symbolic realm of folklore. Folklore, with its ritual passages, symbolic tools of expression and persuasion, and lessons for social relations and roles, takes on an extraparental role. With change as the one constant of modern life, folklore provides a familiar, reassuring type of learning, a cultural register in which children can anticipate the future and express concerns about the present. In London, as in other places representing the specially modern, children want to declare their own identity, and lore is their protected expression of cultural connection to one another. Increasingly independent at younger ages, children fiercely hang on to their cultural property to express their distinct personality and social separation from other ages. Increasingly left to themselves, and in fact separating from parents earlier, children use folklore to help them grow and cope.
Toward the admirable goal of interpreting the significance of folklore in youth culture as it affects human development and societal “dynamics”, Janet Alton and J.D.A. Widdowson provide an exemplary model for identification and annotation, the first critical step in a folkloristic methodology (Bronner 2017). Annotation is a laborious and challenging task, but none-
theless essential, to establish the traditionality and context of expressions. The notes establish the historic lineage of folklore and identify those items that have arisen in contemporary settings. Their command of the literature is exceptional and they bring a world-renowned linguistic expertise to the study of children’s folklore in addition to an intimate knowledge of the settings in which Kelsey collected. Alton and Widdowson are especially good at elucidating the many popular allusions contained in children’s folklore that respond to media and advertisements. Indeed, they have made annotation an art form that assuredly illuminates the central significance of play in the lives of children from generation to generation, and from locality to locality. To their credit, they retained multiple versions of folkloric items, and thereby show that there is not a “correct” version but instead various expressions that children freely use and adapt. With their masterful help, Kelsey the teacher has let the students instruct us about the vigorous and real traditions of youth. They will remind us of what it means to grow up in this city, and this world, and how it affects us as grownups.
Simon J. Bronner,
Pennsylvania State University State College, PA, USA
REFERENCES
Beresin, A. R. (2010). Recess battles: Playing, fighting, and storytelling. Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi.
Bronner, S. J. (1988). American children’s folklore. Little Rock, AR: August House.
Bronner, S. J. (2011). Explaining traditions: Folk behavior in modern culture. Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky.
Bronner, S. J. (2017). Folklore: The basics. London: Routledge.
Dundes, A. (1966). “Metafolklore and oral literary criticism”. Monist, 50, 505–516.
Opie, I, and Opie, P. (1959). The lore and language of schoolchildren. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Opie, I, and Opie, P. (1969). Children’s games in street and playground. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
PREFACE
This collection of some 2000 games, rhymes, songs, and wordplay of London children has its roots in Nigel Kelsey’s work as a primary school teacher in the city. In a career spanning some thirty years, first as a class teacher in Stepney, and later as a deputy head in West Norwood and headteacher in Walworth, his interest in children’s traditional lore continued to develop. It was undoubtedly boosted during fieldwork in 1966–68 for his thesis on Speech and Creative Writing of Fourth Year Junior School Children , submitted for the University of London Diploma in the Education of Children in Junior School, which was awarded to him in 1969. To smooth the way towards recording the essential information for this research, he first encouraged children to talk freely about their traditional activities, rhymes, and linguistic play. This early foray obviously fired his enthusiasm for the subject, and after his retirement in 1982 he embarked on an ambitious project to investigate the traditional lore and the speech of children in twenty-one Inner London schools in the period 1982–84, partially underpinned by material he had collected in the 1960s. However, it soon became clear that this dual approach would not be practicable, especially in view of the overall aim to publish the material. Consequently, he decided to focus on the traditional lore rather than combining this with a detailed analytical study of the spoken
language. 1 Even so, the fieldwork proved so successful, and the material so rich and varied, that the collection offers a revealing snapshot of children’s speech and language play in London in the second half of the twentieth century.
Once the fieldwork was over, the daunting task of transcribing the taperecordings and collating the data began. Nigel Kelsey not only completed this work in record time, but also produced the original typewritten manuscript of the collection in 1986. He offered to make the collected material available to students and other researchers by depositing a copy of the typescript in the archives of the National Centre for English Cultural Tradition at the University of Sheffield in 1989. This prompted an offer to work with him in editing the material for publication. Discussions on his views and intentions for the manuscript were conducted by correspondence and the occasional meeting. However, by the time the typescript was received, Nigel Kelsey had become seriously ill, and collaborative efforts were cut short by his death in 1990, at which point only preliminary editing had been undertaken. He bequeathed to the Centre the whole of the material on children’s traditional lore which he had collected in the field, together with his manuscript notes and additional information.2 This was later transferred to the Special Collections Department of the University Library.
The editing of the manuscript continued throughout the 1990s, with the aim of preserving the original as completely as possible. The guiding principle here was respect for the author’s work, and for his intentions and expectations regarding publication, many of which are outlined in his Introduction. Consequently, at this point editorial intervention in the main body of the work was minimal, being confined to essential corrections and clarifications. In these early stages a succession of voluntary researchers and students at the Centre assisted with checking and proofreading the manuscript and the necessary revisions. The manuscript was then retyped, retaining the content, arrangement, and overall conception of the original, including the collector’s grouping together of examples which have similar characteristics and functions. The whole work was also reformatted in a consistent style of presentation to aid accessibility.
At first sight, the editorial process appeared to be relatively straightforward. However, it was soon realised that there were various ways in which
the work as it stood – already a substantial body of data – could be enhanced to provide a unique resource for the researcher and the interested general reader alike. Nigel Kelsey had consulted many of the reference works on children’s play then extant, and had noted, beneath each of his own collected items, the authors and abbreviated titles of any printed sources in which he had found parallels, but he had not included page numbers. Readers trying to pinpoint these precedents and similarities in the printed sources would therefore have had to search for them, using only the author and title of the relevant publication as a starting point. The long and challenging process of identifying each reference as precisely as possible then began. During this process, careful checking of each printed source revealed many more parallels and a few additional publications which had not been noted in the first round of editing. Fortunately, by this stage the revised typescript had been digitally captured, which facilitated the complex task of identifying and adding the essential page references. Numerous additional parallels were also found at a late stage by close examination of the Rowland Kellett manuscript deposited in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library of the English Folk Dance and Song Society. Nigel Kelsey had made tantalising reference to only two parallels in Kellett’s work, so may not have had full access to the manuscript during his research. The checking process inevitably proved extremely time-consuming, and was exacerbated by the fact that some of the more obscure references were not traceable in the extensive material bequeathed to the Centre, and not easily identifiable in library holdings or media records.
It was then decided to trace and present only those selective references to publications already accessible to Nigel Kelsey at the time the original manuscript was completed in 1986. This reflected his preliminary annotation of the material in the context of works published up to that date, and we therefore resisted the temptation to trace parallels in works published subsequently. The decision was also prompted by the difficulties already experienced in checking and verifying the thousands of specific references in the wide range of sources published before that date. A period of more intensive work on the references in 2000–02 generated the bulk of this information. It then remained to track down those in the more obscure and elusive printed sources. As a result, it has been possible
to reference the most significant of the relevant printed sources published before 1986, and also a number of the lesser known works – over 160 publications in total. Consequently, many of the references to numerous variants and similarities in children’s traditional lore from the early nineteenth century onwards have been gathered together in this collection, providing a unique reference resource and a useful starting point for further investigation. The references set the London examples in the wider context of the British Isles and other parts of the English-speaking world, and demonstrate the wide distribution both of genres and individual items of play over time and space. The parallels identified are of course not exhaustive, but nevertheless represent a substantial cross-section of illustrative examples. Readers may wish to consult the Selected Further Reading section (p. 803), which lists both pre-1986 works not consulted by Nigel Kelsey and works published after the present collection was completed in 1986, for pointers in extending the search for parallels.
Nigel Kelsey aimed to offer a representative range of material from a specific age-group (nine to eleven years) in a way that would clearly indicate the geographical spread of children’s traditional lore across the area then covered by the Inner London Education Authority, as well as the broad social grouping in the catchment area of each school, and the gender of many individual contributors. In marked contrast to most previous collections, this not only provides important contextual information, but also offers pathways for further exploration and analysis of the data. The dating of examples tells us when each was in current usage, and illustrates development over a period of some twenty years, reflecting the author’s awareness that these traditional forms change with the social world around them. It also facilitates direct comparison with the only other extensive collection of London childlore (Norman Douglas’s London Street Games, 1916) and with other more recent publications.3
Unusually in collections of childlore, Nigel Kelsey provides essential information on the scope of the taperecorded data and the methodology he adopted during fieldwork, and he comments revealingly on the reaction to his work by the schoolchildren and their teachers. He worked systematically with small groups of ten to twelve children in each school. Drawing on his long experience as a primary school teacher, he was extraordinarily successful in establishing rapport with
the children and gaining their trust. His self-effacing account of the collecting process makes it sound easy, whereas anyone who has attempted it knows how difficult it is. It requires special skills, and a genuine and sympathetic interest in children and their traditional play, to encourage them to share their games, rhymes, and wordplay, especially the more risqué examples, with an adult. Nigel Kelsey’s personality, skills, approachability, tact, and knowledge of children enabled him not only to collect a wide range of material but also rhymes and wordplay from parts of the child’s world which are normally hidden from adults, reflecting his liberal and broadminded approach. He was even able to record some of the children’s own attitudes to such material, and he presents it verbatim and uncensored, while drawing attention to the comparative lack of “unrespectable” examples in most previous collections. The terminology and social attitudes evident in these examples of course reflect those of the period in which they were recorded. However, he omitted some items which “seemed to offend the general consensus of children’s extremely liberal conceptions of good taste” (p. xxxiv). The collection also omits examples “which seemed to lack any pattern or shape in meaning or structure” (p. xxxiii), and those apparently made up on the spur of the moment, again demonstrating the author’s proficiency and sophistication as a collector. He adds that the collection is not representative of the traditional lore of younger children in the area.
Differing from Douglas’s work in many respects, notably in its breadth, depth, and verbatim quotations of data taperecorded during the fieldwork, this collection ranges widely over the whole field of Inner London children’s traditional lore in this age-group, including superstitions and seasonal customs, providing copious and detailed examples and variants. These are presented in a sequence of categories based partly on function and partly on subject matter, although distinctions between categories are inevitably blurred. For example, a given rhyme may serve several different functions. These and other similarities between various games and rhymes are signalled by cross-references. The work therefore constitutes a major new resource, not only for the study of childlore in the capital but also for comparison with other collections, especially those from Britain and Ireland, and other predominantly English-speaking countries.
In many ways, this book is a celebration of what the author describes as “the great wealth of traditional and newly created material to be found in almost every school playground” (p. xxiii) in Inner London at the time he was collecting. The evidence amply demonstrates the resilience, creativity, and adaptability of childlore in a rapidly changing world where many adults wrongly believe that such traditional activities are in terminal decline or have disappeared altogether. Such misconceptions4 are not only proved unfounded by the extensive material presented here, but also by studies undertaken in Britain in more recent years.5 Comparison with these accounts will indicate the changes which have taken place in children’s traditions over the past three decades, not least the effects of the increasingly multicultural mix in London schools and those of many other urban communities in Britain.
In addition to the discussion of the collected material in the Introduction, Nigel Kelsey prefaces each section and subsection of the publication with an introductory commentary foregrounding the characteristic features of the genre concerned. The Introduction and the commentaries, which reflect the situational context of the fieldwork in the early 1980s, offer valuable insights into a range of topics arising from the author’s experiences in collecting and scrutinising the material. These topics include the differences in repertoire from one school to another; gender roles; generational traditions; pre-game elimination rituals; the history, provenance, and current representation of individual games and rhymes; games and rhymes learned in the classroom or in Scout and Guide groups and modified in the playground; skipping as a solo and group activity; the interaction between traditional and popular culture; variation and terminology in ball games; references in rhymes to wellknown figures; sources of inspiration for new or adapted material; hybrid rhymes; formulaic structures in rhymes; adaptability and mutation of rhymes; linguistic creativity and enjoyment; effects of social change; inevitability of change in children’s traditional play; similarities and differences between the traditional beliefs and practices of children and adults; and optimism about the resilience and future of traditional play.
Nigel Kelsey not only presents condensed and informative comments on these wideranging topics, but also discusses children’s attitudes towards risqué and scatological material, offering insights into the well-known
preoccupation with bodily functions and sex in this age group.6 This aspect of the child’s world, usually hidden from and strongly disapproved of by adults, is seen as part of the experimental process of self-assertion and of challenging authority, which children normally grow out of as they mature. Children’s awareness of language “unacceptable” to adults is illustrated by their occasional censorship of their own material during the fieldwork, as noted in the Introduction (p. xliii). While the subject matter of some of the material may be uncomfortable for adults, the language used is for the most part surprisingly unexceptionable. It would be interesting to discover whether this still holds true in playgrounds today.7
A particular strength of the book is the wealth of evidence of children’s spoken language, amply displayed in their descriptions of games and rhymes, transcribed verbatim from the field recordings, and preserving both the immediacy and the flavour of speech. These descriptions are often both graphic and concise, and add an important dimension to the data which is frequently absent from other collections. It also gives the children a voice, and the freedom to speak for themselves.
After the Introduction, the collection is presented in six sections, each with a number of subsections. Following the introductory overview of each section and subsection, the collected material relevant to the section or subsection is set out, together with a range of significant variants. The annotation includes information on locality, distribution, printed versions, early notings, audio recordings, cross-references and, where necessary, brief elucidatory notes. The typical order of presentation is displayed on pp. xxi–xxii.
The extraordinary wealth of material collected mainly over a period of just two years testifies not only to the vigour and variety of local children’s traditions but also to Nigel Kelsey’s decision to undertake such a challenging project and to analyse and present the results of his findings. Surprisingly little systematic and extensive fieldwork has been carried out on children’s traditions in England in recent years.8 Nigel Kelsey’s collection is unique in its focus on a carefully defined geographical area over a comparatively short period of time, and in the sheer volume of data recorded – the only such substantial collection in the city since that of Douglas seventy years earlier. It fills a major gap in our knowledge of childlore, especially in a specific urban area, and provides incontrovert-
ible evidence of the richness and vibrancy of children’s traditional play in the heart of London in the late twentieth century.
Over the years during which this collection has been prepared for publication, the editors have appreciated the assistance and support of the many people who have been involved with the project, whether directly or indirectly. The fieldwork would not have been possible without the agreement of the Inner London Education Authority and of the headteachers and staff of the schools concerned. During the writing up of the collection, Nigel Kelsey greatly valued the advice, help, and encouragement of Marilyn Jorgensen, Iona Opie, Cecilia Riddell, Dave Rogers, Steve Roud, and Jacqueline Simpson. Preliminary checking of the original manuscript was undertaken by Tony Pike and other voluntary staff and students in the National Centre for English Cultural Tradition at the University of Sheffield. The retyped and successive typeset drafts of the emerging final version of the work were proofread and pre-edited by Celia Robinson. The editors are grateful to Paul Smith and Steve Roud for their assistance, especially in identifying a number of the more elusive references, to Joy Fraser who tracked down other problematical references in various London libraries and elsewhere, to Malcolm Taylor for making a copy of the Rowland Kellett manuscript available to us, to June Factor for advice on published Australian childlore collections, to Country Publications and Linda McFadzean for providing a copy of D. Dennison’s article on singing games published in The Dalesman, to Laura Smyth for supplying copies of two articles by Muriel Searle, to Helen Lewis and Philip Maughan for identifying material published in the New Statesman, to Sarah McDonnell for information on the Woodcraft Folk Song Book, to Herbert Halpert for his encouragement and his assistance with bibliographical references and proofreading, and to Steve Dumpleton for drafting diagrams of hopscotch markings and for ongoing technical expertise and advice. We especially thank Eileen Collins, Publications Assistant in the Department of Folklore at the Memorial University of Newfoundland, whose exemplary typesetting skills transformed a complex, partially edited typescript into an accessible format for its final editing. We are indebted to successive Deans of Arts and Heads of the Department of Folklore at Memorial University for their support of the editorial work. We are grateful to the Leverhulme Trust for the award of an Emeritus Fellowship, providing the essential financial
infrastructure for the preparation of the work for publication, and to the Division of Adult Continuing Education at the University of Sheffield for a grant towards the costs of research assistance. We also thank Cathy Scott and Beth Farrow, our editors at Palgrave Macmillan, for their guidance and support. We particularly wish to thank Mrs V. E. Kelsey-Jansen and Mrs P. J. Roberts for facilitating a generous bequest from Nigel Kelsey’s estate as a contribution towards the editing of the collection, and for their patience and forbearance over the long period leading up to its publication. Our greatest debt of gratitude, of course, is to all the children who shared their wealth of traditional lore during the fieldwork, and to Nigel Kelsey himself for his foresight in undertaking this remarkable project, and his courage and determination, despite increasing ill health, to bring it to a successful conclusion.
Edale, Hope Valley, UK
NOTES
The Editors
1. See Wiltshire, R. (2001). The Nigel Kelsey Collection of children’s folklore, 1962–1990. Repository and Media Guide, Archives of Cultural Tradition. Sheffield: National Centre for English Cultural Tradition, p. 34.
2. See Wiltshire, 2001, pp. 28–34; Wiltshire, R. (2001, April). The Nigel Kelsey Collection of children’s folklore, 1962–1990. Folklore, 112(1), 82–87; and Wiltshire, R. (2002). The Nigel Kelsey Collection of children’s folklore, 1962–1990. Folk Life, 40, 72–79. Robin Wiltshire also created a comprehensive catalogue of the Kelsey Collection during his work as Archivist at the National Centre for English Cultural Tradition at the University of Sheffield.
3. The most immediately relevant of these works, an illustrated book aimed at children, is Inky Pinky Ponky (Rosen and Steele, 1982), the games and rhymes in which were collected in Inner London at the same time as Nigel Kelsey was working, and which contains many striking parallels.
4. As noted, for example, in Roud (2010, pp. xi–xv). See Selected Further Reading.
5. See, for example, Bishop and Curtis (2001); Green and Widdowson (2003); Marsh (2008); Marsh and Bishop (2013); Opie (1993); Opies (1997); and Roud (2010). See Bibliography and Selected Further Reading.
6. See Introduction, pp. xlii–xliii. See also, for example, Knapps (1976, pp. 61–63, 82–94, 179–190, 211–216); Lowenstein (1974, 1986, 1988, 1989); Opies (1969, pp. 93–97); Opie (1993, pp. 9–10, 14–15, 26, 39–41, 86–87, 160, and passim); Turner (1969, p. 2, and passim); and Wolfenstein (1978, pp. 168–181, and passim). See Bibliography and Selected Further Reading.
7. An indication of recent trends can be found, for example, in Lowenstein (1974), Green and Widdowson (2003, pp. 361–509), and Roud (2010, pp. 413–437). See Bibliography and Selected Further Reading.
8. See, however, Bishop and Curtis (2001); Green and Widdowson (2003); Marsh (2008); Roud (2010); and Marsh and Bishop (2013). See Selected Further Reading.
THE COLLECTION: KEY TO PRESENTATION OF ENTRIES
SECTION NAME, Table of Contents where applicable, and introductory notes
SUBSECTION NAME and introductory notes
Reference number (and title if a rhyme or song, etc.)
Illustrative examples and variants, with places and dates of collection
Reference numbers run consecutively through each subsection
In the case of games with rhymes, the title is usually the first line of the primary example
The occasional emendation, clarification, or alternative wording of the transcripts by the author is indicated by brackets. Where similar versions were collected at more than one school, the place and year where the quoted example was collected are underlined, e.g.: Walworth 1979; Dalston, Borough 1983 The localities are listed alphabetically within the entries for each year
Child’s description of example(s)
Cross-references and/or notes where applicable
Given where possible in the child’s own words
These draw attention to other examples in the collection which have a similar form and/or function. Individual genres, sections, and subsections can be located by reference to the Table of Contents, and in the case of rhymes to the Index, p. 811
Tune name, where applicable
Printed versions
Early notings
Commercially available recordings
References here are from all works consulted (see Bibliography). Page numbers are given for works cited which were published after the end of the Second World War. References are listed alphabetically by authors’ names. Where more than one work by the same author(s) is cited, or where several authors share the same surname, each publication has been given an identifying acronym or abbreviation (for a list of these, see p. 795; full details of all publications referenced can be found in the Bibliography, p. 779)
References from works published prior to 1945 are given here in full. They are listed in date order and quote the earliest printed version identified, plus any interesting versions intermediate between this and later examples
See Discography, p. 801
INTRODUCTION
It is probably not an overstatement to claim that children’s lore is the most real and vigorous of the oral folklore still alive in London. While my experience does not cover the central areas of large cities in the United Kingdom in general, the two books by Ritchie on Edinburgh children’s lore (SS, 1964; GC, 1965), and Shaw’s books about Liverpool (1969, 1970), seem to indicate that city folklore has a wider relevance than what is to be found in the school playground. As someone who has lived and worked through more than six decades in Inner London, apart from children’s lore I have encountered the changing aspects of dialects and slang, a few ephemeral parodies, large numbers of risqué jokes, a few urban legends, some obscene songs and verses, but not much more. Most books on Cockney lore tend to dwell considerably on the past. Certainly the rich humour which tends to be associated with this lore seems to be very much on the decline.
All in all I think that what is still left does not add up to very much, in comparison with the great wealth of traditional and newly created material to be found in almost every school playground. I have been fortunate enough in a career of thirty-two years in primary teaching to have spent long periods in three separate and different Inner London school environments and to have been able to observe and note some of the traditional processes at work. These observations have been supplemented by briefer experiences in a number of other schools. Towards the end of
1982 I embarked on a study of all the aspects of children’s lore that are generally covered by that term. It involved visiting and recording in twenty-one schools in the area of what was then the Inner London Education Authority and covering a wide social spectrum in all the Authority’s ten divisions. The study took two years and included the transcription of about thirty hours of audiotape. Because of the limited timescale, and its coverage of the whole of an inner city area, the study is unique.
Many collections of children’s lore, especially of the rhymes and songs used to accompany games activities, have been compiled and published in the English-speaking world over the last century and a half. They have tended to concentrate on singing games, action rhymes, and songs and rhymes used to accompany skipping, ball bouncing and hand clapping routines. Sometimes the collector has restricted the material to a particular region or city, or has covered a specific country. Rarely has the collection of versions of rhymes and other material been restricted to a specific period of time. London has not been well served by such collectors. The only fairly large collection is contained in London Street Games, compiled by Norman Douglas. It was first published in 1916 and a further edition appeared in 1931. Both contained ninety-three rhymes, the beginnings of a further forty-six and the titles of twenty-four others. Douglas also listed the names of nearly 800 different games, and gave rudimentary descriptions of sixty-six of them, though he did not attempt to analyse them or explain how they were played. He did not set out to compile a scholarly collection. In fact he made fun of the attempts to explain the origins of courtship rhymes etc., by reference to ancient rituals. He did not include any examples of wordplay, repartee, taunts and the like, for this was not his aim. His intention was that no interpolations or explanations should come between his readers and the vigour and flow of children’s rhymes and songs used in play, where one will follow another, often without any interruption or discussion among the children at play.
Examples of London’s children’s lore appear in writings about childhood memories of London streets and playgrounds. In their book on Cockney lore, The Muvver Tongue (1980), Barltrop and Wolveridge give several, as does Charles Keeping in his song book Cockney Ding Dong (1975). Grace Foakes remembers some rhymes from her childhood in My Part of the River
(1974). Dan Jones, an East London artist, reproduced the words used in play, alongside the groups of children performing them, in a picture of an East London playground painted in 1975. He also included play rhymes in several of his illustrations for the picture book Inky Pinky Ponky (Rosen and Steele, 1982). I have received many details of rhymes and games from older citizens, now living all over the country, who remember the games they played in their London childhood, from twenty to as long as seventy years before the present collection was completed. It is frustrating to anyone interested in this lore that so little information is available in print about the circumstances in which the games were played, or about the age or gender of the children taking part. In the case of Norman Douglas’s collection we are not told how he noted or recorded his material, over how long a period the collecting took place, or whether he used adult memories of informants to supplement the information from children.
If we look at collectors in other regions of the British Isles, there are two little books of street games from North Shields, dating from 1926 and 1930, compiled by Madge and Robert King. Alfred Gaskell remembers the rhymes of Salford in Those Were the Days (1963). A very informative little work published at the University of Durham, and entitled All the Way to Pennywell (Rutherford, 1971), contains a large number of rhymes used for various purposes, in many cases with their tunes. It covers the North East area and includes some valuable information from its compiler. Frank Shaw does a rather different job for the rhymes of Liverpool in his two compilations entitled You Know me Anty Nelly? from 1969 and 1970 which, like Norman Douglas’s book, are intended to be read straight through to appreciate the oral flow. It certainly brings the children’s street culture of that fascinating city to life. Many rhymes and fragments are included in the text. A book about singing games and other traditional games in a Nottingham primary school, with clear details of how these are played, was compiled by its headmaster, R. A. Smith, and published, together with a video, in 1982.
When we turn to Scotland there are the two invaluable books noted above about Edinburgh’s rich oral lore by James T. R. Ritchie: The Singing Street (SS, 1964) and Golden City (GC, 1965). A booklet with some of the play rhymes of a school in Ayrshire was compiled at Cumnock Academy in 1961 and entitled Bluebells my Cockle Shells. Norah and
William Montgomerie included much play material in their four volumes of Scottish nursery rhymes (SNR, 1946; SC, 1948; HBSNR, 1964; 1966), and there is also a valuable little booklet by Jean Rodger based on personal memory (1958). Ireland is served by Leslie Daiken, who covers the children’s calendar in his Children’s Games Throughout the Year (CGTY, 1949) and includes a number of play rhymes (mainly from Ireland) in his Teaching Through Play (TTP, 1954). He also compiled a little book of Dublin rhymes: Out Goes She (OGS, 1963). Another Dublin collection is All In! All In! by Eilís Brady (1975).
Over the years almost the whole field of children’s culture has been covered by Iona and Peter Opie. Their first book to comprehensively cover children’s rhymes, superstitions, sayings, epithets etc. was their great work The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren (LL, 1959), but it has been well complemented by their later publications, Children’s Games in Street and Playground (CGSP, 1969) and The Singing Game (SG, 1985), and their earlier little book I Saw Esau (ISE, 1947). Invaluable collections of the lore pertaining to younger children are Gullen’s Traditional Number Rhymes and Games (1950), and Number Rhymes and Finger Plays by Boyce and Bartlett (1941). Typical settings of singing games to music are those of Kidson (1916), Gillington (OHSG, OIWSG, OSSG, 1909; ODSG, 1913), and Thornhill (1911), while Ewan MacColl and Dominic Behan recorded children’s songs from their childhoods in Glasgow, Salford and Dublin on an LP record entitled Streets of Song (1959).
Moving on to important overseas collections covering similar material, there are Brian Sutton-Smith’s outstanding book The Games of New Zealand Children (1959), Edith Fowke’s Sally Go Round the Sun from Canada (1969), and Ian Turner’s important Australian collection Cinderella Dressed in Yella (1969). Caribbean rhymes and games can be found in the works of Beckwith and Roberts ( FGJ , 1922), Beckwith ( JFL , 1928), Elder (1965), and Robertson (1971). There are many American collections, of which only a few can be mentioned here. The wide field of American folklore is covered by Botkin’s A Treasury of American Folklore ( TAF , 1944) and Folklore in America by Coffin and Cohen (1966). Both have sections dealing with children’s lore. Some works dealing with specific aspects of children’s rhymes are those by Abrahams (1969), Abrahams and Rankin (1980), Evans
( JRR , 1954; WI , 1956), Morrison (1958), the Petershams (1945), Withers ( CO , 1946, 1970; RIMP , 1948), and Worstell (1961). Talley’s Negro Folk Rhymes (1922) and The Book of Negro Folklore by Hughes and Bontemps (1958) are concerned with African American culture, including that of children.
Turning to some of the early collectors of the nineteenth century, Chambers’s The Popular Rhymes of Scotland (first published 1826), Halliwell’s The Nursery Rhymes of England (NRE, first published 1842) and Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales (PRNT, first published 1849), Northall’s English Folk-Rhymes (first published 1892), and Nicholson’s Golspie (1897) all contain some traditional rhymes as well as much material mainly transmitted by adults. It was probably Henry Bolton’s The Counting-out Rhymes of Children, published in London in 1888, containing hundreds of rhymes and variations used to decide who was to be “he” or the equivalent, which was the first significant collection of genuine children’s folklore. Most of the material for Bolton’s volume was collected in the USA and the first important collection of children’s singing (and other) games was also American. This was William Wells Newell’s Games and Songs of American Children, first published in New York in 1883. It contains nearly two hundred games, including the words and tunes of many singing games. Versions and rhymes noted in both these sources were still to be found in Inner London school playgrounds at the time of writing.
The first really extensive collection of children’s games in these islands was made by Alice Bertha Gomme in her great two volume work entitled The Traditional Games of England, Scotland and Ireland published in 1894 and 1898, and reprinted in 1984 in a one volume edition. The original two thick volumes contained the names of, and information on, more than 800 games, some 600 being described in detail. Many variants of the singing games are given, but counting-out rhymes and the vast field of wordplay were obviously outside the scope of the work. Her collection of games, as the title denotes, was drawn from most parts of Britain and Ireland. They were not limited to those in contemporary use and several may have been extinct by the time the volumes were published. She relied on correspondents, on her own collecting, and on printed sources, although many of the citations from printed sources are not followed by
a description. It is not clear what age the children were who played particular games, and as some games appear to be of an indoor “party” type, there may have been a certain amount of adult organisation and direction involved. It is still a great work, however, and invaluable for anyone interested in children’s play.
Almost all the books cited above are either, on the one hand, specifically limited to a particular category of children’s lore, or in some cases to a particular school or area, or on the other hand, cover large areas. In no case were they limited to a particular period. I had a different aim in my study. I wished to cover a specific area, namely Inner London, and to restrict myself basically to the years of my research, 1982–84, supplemented by material I had collected from 1960 to 1982, either as a class teacher or headmaster, using this earlier material to fill gaps or throw light on the tradition. Furthermore, the material was collected from children roughly between the ages of nine and eleven, who are full of their currently used repertoire but can look back to their younger years very easily and without embarrassment. At the same time they pick up a lot of material from elder siblings and friends and from young and old adults.
I aimed to present a representative collection of children’s lore, which would however have the limitations of not being fully representative of infant and younger junior children (five to eight), nor of secondary age children (twelve plus). All the examples in each section were collected by me within the bounds of the Inner London Education Authority which in 1963 replaced the old London County Council, set up in 1888. The material is drawn from all of the ten divisions of the Authority (pp. xlv–xlvi).
The overwhelming majority of the examples reproduced were collected from schools visited between 1982 and 1984. In certain cases some material is included from schools in which I taught from 1960 to 1982, and a few items collected from an earlier small study in 1968. These earlier examples sometimes give fuller versions of, or represent, rhymes which were still current at the time of the present study, in the early 1980s, though not collected for one reason or another. They also help to illustrate the development of the tradition over a period of up to twenty years, each example being dated.
The schools visited in the two year period were selected with the help of the Authority in order to cover the widest possible social range. In
most of the ten divisions it was possible for me to visit on the one hand a school mainly limited to children whose parents were unskilled or semiskilled, and on the other hand a school with a fair number of children whose parents were from professional or managerial occupations, or one with a balanced make-up right across the social spectrum. There were some difficulties in always obtaining an accurate breakdown of the social composition in several of the schools visited or of the actual classes or groups who were my informants. However, it became clear that the twenty-one schools visited fell roughly into three categories:
1. Schools where the majority of the children came from professional, managerial and “white collar” families.
2. Schools where the overwhelming majority of the children came from semi-skilled, unskilled and unwaged families.
3. Schools where there was a fairly balanced social composition.
In the two-year survey there were eight schools in category a., nine in category b., and four in category c. Of the three schools in which I taught for a fairly long period, two were in category b., and one in category c. In those three schools I was able to observe the processes of change and innovation over a number of years, nine years in the case of the first school (1960–69), four years in the second (1969–73), and eight years in the third (1974–82). In the case of the first school, which was in Mile End, East London, I visited it as one of the schools included in the survey in 1983. In the schools surveyed a number of other variables affected the extent and the composition of the collected material: gender balance, size of groups, numbers of visits made, and other miscellaneous factors. It can be deduced that children in category a. schools would tend not to play so much in public playgrounds and probably not at all in the courtyards of blocks of flats and in the streets. They would have less practice in acquiring and passing on the skills in ball bouncing etc., or in learning new material from children attending other schools. It was noticeable that most of the examples of inter-school chauvinism came from schools in this category.
The rhymes to accompany skipping, ball bouncing, and hand clapping routines, and the songs for games, mime, and dance were mainly (but not
entirely) contributed by girls. A majority of the entertainment rhymes, wordplay, teases etc. were contributed by boys. Counting-out rhymes were provided equally by boys and girls. The question of the integration of boys’ and girls’ play appears to be a controversial one among folklorists specialising in children’s play and customs. Father Damian Webb, for whose work I have a very great respect, expressed himself in his introduction to the 1984 edition of Gomme’s Traditional Games as being concerned at the effects of the integration of play spaces in schools. He writes (p. 15):
I am convinced that nothing in this century has done more to destroy our ancient and precious heritage of the singing game tradition than to force boys and girls to play together on the very limited area most junior schools possess.
He considers that “the imposition of mixed sex schooling has dealt a terrible blow to traditional children’s games.” (p. 15).
When I first became interested in collecting children’s play rhymes etc. in the 1960s, many junior schools in Inner London had separate playgrounds or play areas for boys and girls. Now integration is almost universal. I do not share Damian Webb’s pessimism, nor do I believe that integrated playgrounds force boys and girls to play together, though it obviously makes it much easier. The tendency to break down the old gender differences, whether in playgrounds, lining up, seating arrangements, curriculum or organised games activities, has been encouraged by the Inner London Education Authority as well as the Equal Rights Commission. In my opinion it has only dented the stereotype images of how pre-pubescents are expected to behave. Social changes in the community as a whole have probably played a bigger part in bringing about changes in children’s play.
Sluckin tends to emphasise the gender differences, pointing out that in boys’ games the emphasis is more on physical strength, achievement, and competitiveness, while in girls’ games there is less competitiveness, a greater equality between roles, and an interest in family life. He says (1981, pp. 102–103):
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
Joo peijakas, otti ja lähti siitä paikasta kujaa pitki hyppäämhän jotta rapa roiskuu ja isännät peräs.
Saivat onneksi kränkystä kiinni ja tyyrätyksi ojahan. Muotoon s’olis menny, mihkähän olis mennykkää, mutta asemalle päin se ainaki yritti. Kuka tiätää vaik’olis tullu takaasi Vaasahan.
Kun isännät sitte istuuvat oikee joukolla ja koko osuuskunnan painolla sen päällä hyvän aikaa, jottei se pääsny ojasta pois, nii viimmee väsyy peijakas ja pirätti.
Helpootuksen huakaus siinä riihimiähiltä pääsi. Mutta Jussi sai kuulla kunniansa ja kyllä se sen tarvittikin.
Ja jos s’olis eres sillä uskonu, mutta ku seuraavana päivänä taas tahtoo näyttää taituansa. Moottori oli jääny yäksi siihe kuntoho, ku s’oli, vettä röörit täynnä. Ja yällä oli kylmänny, jotta s’oli aamulla jääs.
Ku isännät sitte tulivat taas kattomhan, nii Jussi trossas jotta:
— Kyllä ny pyärii, eikä prittaale!
— Katto vaa, jottei se taas lähre meirän käsistä — pyytelivät isännät.
— Eikhän sirota köysiä kränkkyhy kiinni, jottei se pääse karkuhu? ehrootteli yks isäntä, jok’oli huano juaksemhan.
— Ei trenkää! — mahtavootti Jussi.
Se hairas veivistä kiinni, reisun vain voiteli ja nykääsi, niin — eikös se ruvennukki heti pyärimhän!
Ja nii tasaasta ja siivosti meniki ku silinteri kello vai tikkas.
Ja Jussi — — jaa-ah, se ny oli nii poikaa ja mestaria, jotta aiva se keikisteli.
Nii silloo, kuulkaa, yhtäkkiä präiskähti ja paukahti n’otta koko osuuskunta oli hoittollona ketarat pystys. Rauranpaloja lenteli ilmas ja isoo pyärä meni jotta vinkuu tiätä pitki aiva oikoosena.
Prisaksi meni koko moottori.
Se oli komeuren loppu.
— Ja hyvä oli ku eres sillä päästihin! — siunasivat isännät.
PATALJOONA LÄHTI.
Oottako kuullu jotta nyt on suamalaanen sotaväki lähteny Vaasasta ja tuatu ruattalaasia tilahan?
Ja monen mamman flikan syrän on aivan tukehtua kun
Vieraille maille mun kultani lähti ja jätti mun tänne yksin.
Mettäprunnin kannellaki oli joka nurkalla istunu itkevä pari ja oikeen oli männynlarvakki humaannu jotta:
Sotapoika sorja ja neito ihana
Ne istuu illan tullessa
Lähtehen reunalla.
Kun kaks kukertelovaasta kyyhkyystä noukat yhres.
Suamalaasten sotapoikaan piti jättää kultansa suruhun sortumahan ja lähtiä Helsinkihin viättelysten pesähän, johna niin monen poijan syrän on kylmenny.
Ei oo kumma jos Vaasan flikat ovakkin suuttuneina kun tualla lailla sotamiähiä siirrellähän paikasta paikkahan. Kun justhin on saanu ittellensä vasituusen heilan jostaki kersantista eli vääpelistä ja pian meinathin ostaa sormus — niin silloon justhin siirrethän koko sotaväki toisehe kaupunkihi!
Ja taas pitää flikkaan alkaa aluusta koko tuhina aiva ventovierahan kans.
Kovasti n’oon ny suutuksis kaikki Hiltat ja Mantat täälä Vaasas.
Kun m’olin eileen illalla kans’ asemalla kattomas ku tänne tuathin ruattalaane pataljoona suamalaasen siahan, niin takaasin tulles kuulin kuinka kaks ruattalaasta piikaa kovasti praatas ja oli sinnis, kun niiren suamalaaset kullat siirrettihin pois Vaasasta.
Toinen sanoo jotta:
— S’oon aivan nuaren ruattalaasten herraan, förpannatu Folkparttiin syy, kun suamalaaset sotapoijat, jokk’on niin hyviä halaamhan, siirrettihin pois. Ja tilalle tuathin Närpis-holingar o tuku de bundpojkar som je som bara snyys. (tuallaasia Närpiön ressuja, jokk’on ku piaksuja.)
— Jaa-ah, sej int annat Baat! (Älä muuta sano) — sanoo toinen.
— Tå ja va på stasjuun i natt tå döm kom, så greit töm o liipa o saa he töm ha haft så jestandes dryjgt i Hälsinfoss, he töm ha bara gråti. (Kun m’olin yällä asemalla kun ne tuli, niin aivan ne itki ja sanoo, jotta niill’on ollu niin ikävä Helsingis jotta aivan n’oon itkenehet). Ein yta töm ha fråga jeenast et mamm o sagt he an sku ha kikka. (Yks oli kyselly äitejä jo asemalla jotta se tahtoo kikkaa.)
Sellaasta ne puhuuvat ja toinen sanoo viälä jotta:
— Tuku de soldaatan som kan int hälst pussas naa! (Tuollaasia sotamiähiä, jokk’ei taira eres pussatakkaa).
Ja toinen sanoo jotta:
— Men finnpojkan, töm va bra ti kröst, nästan välkkan än ryyssan. (Kyllä nua finnipoijat oli kovia pusertamhan, melkeen parempia ku ryssät).
Niin puhuuvat ja haukkuuvat, mutta kiiluvin silmin jo kattelivat näitä uusiaki.
HRA TUNTEMATOON.
Oottako kuullu jotta mull’oli lauantaina iltapäivällä harvinaane tilaasuus ja kunnia?
Mull’oli kunnia haastatella sitä salaperäästä junkkaria, jot’ei kukaa tunne, vaikka sen on moni nähny ja ollu puhees ja tekemisiskin sen kans.
Hra Tuntematoonta!
Sitä samaa juupelia, jota poliisit ovat yrittänhet saara kiinni jo monta kymmentä vuatta, mutteivät oo saanhet. Jäljillä ovat ollehet, mutta sitte se katuaa ku kastet maaha.
Eileen kun lehti oli jo valmis ja mä knapittin housuni, jotta mä lähren kotia, (m’oon kuulkaa niin lihoonu, jotta aiva pitää pitää housunliirinkiä auki ku kriivaroottoo) — niin samas soittuu telefooni ja kysyttihin jotta:
— Haloo, onko se herra Jaakkoo?
— Joo, s’oon minä itte!
— No päivää ja tervhyysiä Ruattista ja olis mulla vähä tulijaasiaki
— Kuka puhuu, tuata, kenenkä kans mull’on kunnia puhua?
— Tjaah, se on vähä arka paikka. Mun ei passaa sanua nimiäni, mutta min’oon se sama miäs, joka tunnethan hra Tuntemattoman nimellä.
— Oohoo — pääsi multa.
— Joo — sanoo. — Kun nyt on purjehruskausi loppunu ja joppookin pitää järjestää taas uuthen laihi, niin mä ajattelin, jotta jos haluaasitta haastatella, niin se käyys ny kovasti hyvi päinsä.
— Kiitoksia! Sepä ny jotakin! Mihnä sais tavata?
— Minä asun täälä moottoriveneheni kajuutas. Tulkaa Kalaranthan, niin laivapoikani kyllä opastaa.
Minä lährin het!
Siinä entisen Lasellin rautakaupan nurkas seisooki yks poika, joka nosti komjasti lakkia ja sanoo jotta:
— Minä viän.
Ja siinä uurella pryyllä oliki yks suuri harmhaksi maalattu moottoripaatti ja siihen se mun viisas. Mä koputin kajuutan ovhen, niinku herroos pruukathan ja heti sanoihin, jotta:
— Sisälle!
Aukaasin oven ja — kyllä mä hämmästyyn jotta:
— Sinäkö saamari se oot, se hra tuntematoon!
— Minä, minä — nauroo se junkkari, jok’on mun rippikoulutoverini ja hyvä tuttu.
— No älä ny heikatti, vai sä se oot! Mutt oot sä aika epeli, em m’olsi luullukkaa. — Ja näin komja ja fiini paatti kun sull’on. Mistä sä oot tämän komffoijannu?
— No pitää sit’olla värkit sitä mukaa ku hommakki. Kun on sellaaset suuret ja monet asiat levjällänsä ku mullaki ny on, niin ymmärtää sen.
Ja kyllä sill’oliki komja kajuutta. Aivan mahongista ja vaskesta kiilti ja moottoriki oli 64 hevoosvoimaa. Sametti-tyynyt penkiillä.
— Kolmes tiimas mä ajan tällä täältä Vaasasta Ruattin pualelle?
— Älä hemmetis, vai menöö se nii lujaa.
— Pitää olla sellaane masiina, jottei poliisit eikä tullivenhet peräs pysy Eikä ne pysykkää. Parhaat tullinuuskarien paatit teköö 18 knuuppia, mutta tämä teköö 85 knuuppia — —
— Mikä se knuuppi o? — piti mun kysyä, kun en m’oo oikee meriasioosta selvillä.
— No se on sama ku solmu elikkä solmunväli.
— Jaa-ah — sanoon mä. Vai solmuja. Mutta eikö ne mee joskus aiva takkuhu, kun niin ajetahan?
— Hahhahhaa! — nauroo se hra Tuntematoon ja nosti sähköllä keitetyn kaffipannu pöytähän ja otti seinäkaapista sellaaset kauhian hoikkajalkaaset pikarit ku maronlakit. Mutta mä sanoon jotta:
— Sos sos soo, s’ei passaa olleskaa. S’oon visshin väkijuamaa ja m’oon lakia kunnioottava kansalaane. Suames on kialtolaki! Jes jos poliisit sais tiätää, jotta sä tarittet mulle tuata kullanruskiaa munkkia!
Silloo se nousi ylhä, vihelti kerran ja samas heitti laivapoika köyret irti ja moottori rupes hakkaamhan ja kallisti jotta jos en m’olsi saanu vähä väistetyksi, niin koko pottu olis kaatunu mun hämmästynesehe suukkuhuni.
— Pian täs laki täytethän — huuti hra Tuntematoon ja paatti meni jotta vesi piraji ja Vaskiluatoki vai reisuusti välähti.
Oikee otti hengen kiinni. Nii lujaa se meni.
Ja sitte toppas ku tikkuhu.
— Kolme meripeninkulmaa! — sanoo hra Tuntematoon. — Nyt m’oomma Suamen rajan ulkopuolella. — Kippis.
— Kippis sanoo merimiäs.
— Niin sanoo jotta kippis.
— Kippis, äääh.
— Kippis, äääh.
Ja sitte me jutelthin.
Se kertoo, jotta s’oon tianannu tänäki kesänä hyvin. Tullen mennen. Täältä s’oon kuljettanu Ruattihin kenkiä ja paperossia. Eikä paperossiista mee tupakkiveruakaa kun niitä viää rehellisesti ulkomaille. Ensin sai kruunun laatikosta, mutta ny viimeaikoona vain 50 äyriä. Ruattin pualelle ne piti tuara salaa, mutta ku on tuttuja miähiä vastas ja puplikaaniakin vähä auttaa, niin hyvin s’oon menny. Ruattista on takaasi tulles tuatu kaffia, n’otta sit’ on kaikki mettäkki täynnä Lohtajalta Porihi asti. Säkkiäki on hajonnu ja kaffia niin varisnu pitkin puskikoota, jotta 10 vuaren perästä on kaffipuu yleesin lehtipuu koko venska Österoottenis. Ja hyvinhän n’oon kaupat rotsinhet, eikä voi tullinuuskarikkaa moittia. Frii kaffiis ovat pysynhet ja saanhet vähä tupakkirahojaki.
— Mutta paljohan n’oon poliisit ja tullimiähet saanehet sun tavaroostas takavarikkohonki —
— Hui hai! Ei muuta ku se mik’on meinattuki. Kattoos, s’oon sillä lailla, jotta mä pruukaan panna pari apulaastani 10—12 säkin kans erellä kulkeehe ja iasti tuloo vasta peräs. Se syättivehes ajaa sitte niin likiltä rullipaattia, jotta vissisti äkkääväkki. Tullilaivas nousoo aikamoone metakka jotta.
Ja sitte ne panoo moottoripaatin merehe ja siihe hyppää 2—3 tullijunnia pyssyt käres ja huutaavat jotta:
— Seis seis elikkä me ammumma.
— Ja mun poikani syöttipaatis nauraa pihistäävät jotta:
— No nyt ne lähti. — Mitä nuaren ampumisesta! Ei n’oo ikänä osannehet.
Poijat pistäävät piippuhu valkian ja pitäävät sellaasta parhaltaasta vauhtia päällä, jotta tullivenes hissuksensa saavuttaa, ajaavat ranthan ja pyhkääsöövät mettähän, elikkä rupiaavat riitelöhö ja rähisöhö. Niitä sitte lähtöövät tullijunnit kuljettohon ja ovat miälisnänsä ku saivat kiinni, mutta sillä aikaa ajaa mun isoo lastilaivani kaikes rauhas maihin. Siäl’on isäntiä ja hevoosia orottamas ja »jyväsäkit» lähtöövät maakuntaha jauhettavaksi. Hyvinhän s’oon kannattanu.
— Täs hiljan mä tein oikee aika jutkun näille tulliherroolle — jutteli hra Tuntematoon. — Pari viikkua sitte niitä lähti Ruattin pualelle aika sakki yhrellä komjalla tullionkarilla tekemhän salasopimus Ruattin pualen puplikaanien kans, jotta heti ku täältä lähtöö sinne jokin tupakkilasti, niin täältä sähkötethän sinne jotta:
— Pass opp, nyt tuloo!
Ja ku Ruattin tullista lähtöö kaffilasti, niin siältä knakutethan tänne jotta:
— Hori opp!
Veljellisesti näin autethan toisiansa ja saaraha osansa takavarikosta.
— Hi ha ha — nauroo hra Tuntematoon. — Juu peeveli, viälä eivät oo saanhet yhtäkää kertaa, vaikka n’oon sähköttänhet ja knakuttanhet jotta pää täräänny. Ny ne istuu, imehtelöö ja manaa
mua. — Mutta se se kiärint’oli kun mä passasin päälle ja pistin herraan paattihin vähä omaa tavaraani. Ja hyvin meni. Yks puplikaani korjas pois ku herrat olivat hotelis syämäs. Kyllä mua huvitti ku mä seisoon Uumajan rannas ja katteIin herraan lähtyä. Sillon tuuli ja oli vähä sumuaki — — —
— Kippis.
— Kippis.
— Onko vissisti 3 meripeninkulmaa?
— O-oh!
— Mutta kuule, jos Markus sais sun kiinni?
— No mitäs sitte?
— Saakuri viä poika, s’oot tehny niin paljo jutkuja ja klenkkuja, jotta sun tuamitaas seittemän kertaa elinkautishen linnaha.
— Phyh! jos ne mun kiinni sais, niin viäläpäs ny asia! Kyllähän poliisit mun tuntoovat mikä min’oon ja tiätäävät mun oikian nimeni. Mutta sitä n’ei tiärä, eikä usko vaikka sanooski, jotta min’oon se herra Tuntematoon.
— Kippis — — ähäh —
— Kippis — — ähäh —
Kyllä mun täytyy tunnustaa, jotta mä en muista yhtää mitää koska ja kuinka m’oon kotia tullu, mutta palttoo mull’oli yllä ja hattu niin niin krutus, niin krutus pääs, ku aamulla sängystä huamaattin jottah.
Ja kalossikki jalaas.
VALTIOPAATTI V. 1920.
Oottako kuullu jotta Suamen kansa rupiaa tulohon Hiljaksensa viisahaksi?
Ministerin paikkaa kun ei enää huoli herra, eikä hamppari.
Sitähän m’oon aina sanonu, jotta antaa ny niiren aikansa asuulla ja olla tyyrmannina siinä valtiopaatis, joka lähti nii mahtavaa seilaamahan kansanvallan myrskyävälle merelle n’otta »monarkistien paperilyhryt» vaan pikkuusen enää tuikuttelivat ku mikkäkin surunpillit pahan maillaan rannalla.
Ja nämä poijat kun vetivät trasua mastoohin ja sanoovat jotta:
— Niillä koulunkäynehillä kapteeniilla ja tyyrmanniilla ei oo mitään virkaa! Miksei sitä seiso äijä kun äijä ruatelis ja osaa tyyripuusta veivata? — Viäläpäs ny konsti! —
Muistattako mikä rähinä siin’oli kun nämä poijat astoovat Suami laivahan? — Siiin’oli eri tohina!
Ne tulivat laivantäkille ja ajoovat entiset inerimiähet, tyyrmannit ja kapteenit lastiruumahan. Panivat luukut kiinni ja huutivat jotta:
— Ei ykskään sorkka siitä vanhasta hapatuksesta saa tulla meitä neuvomhan, eikä viisoolohon. Pysykää vaan erillännä meistä! Se on ny me kun määräämmä jä näytämmä, kuinka tällä paatilla oikee Seilathan.
Ne vanhat merenkulkijat puristelivat päätänsä ja sanoovat jotta:
— Ei sill’ eikä millään, ettettä te klopit saa tällä yhteesellä paatilla kans seilaalla, mutta kun ett’ oo ennen merillä ollehet, niin kattokaa vaan ettei teirän käy huanosti. — Punakaarttilaaset kans lähtivät tällä paatilla freistaalohon, mutta ajoovat niin nenänsä takkakivehen, jotta koko paatti oli saumoosta hajota. Eikhän olsi paree, ku ottaasitta joitakin entisiä merimiähiä joukhon? Jos sattuus hätä tulohon, niin voisivat auttaa! — kehoottelivat merimiähet.
— Tukkikaa suunna te patavanhoolliset, taantumuksen mustat kekälehei ja kaikenmailman kansanvallan vasthanharraajat, jok’että ymmärrä yhtää histoorian kulkua, kun ootta ensin kumartanehet kultavasikkaa ja ny pokkurootta paperivasikan eres. Hyi hävekkää, kun viittittä meille puhuakkaan! — huuti yks’ pleikinnäköönen ministerin-planttu, ja heitti katseensa ylös histoorian kulkuhun.
Niin nousivat poijat laivahan. Yks otti ja piti viälä peijakkahammoosen puheen matkhanlährös jotta:
— Jo tulikin kerran oikiat miähet nöörin päihin! Nyt sitä näytethän, kuinka nämä poijat taitaa. Trossi irti ja lankongit pois! Suara kurssi. Ei oikiaan ei vasempaan — — —
— Käännä helekutis vasempahan! — kiljaasi se pleikinnäköönen miäs, joll’oli laivan viinavarasto hoirettavana. Eksä näe, että oikialta tiukkaa viälä vähä monarkistien paperilyhryt?
Kurssia vähä entrattihin.
— Vasemmalla punaasia valoja, kun kyliä palaasi — huuti tähystäjä. —
Oikialla näkyy viälä pikkuusen paperilyhtyjä, mutta s’oon niin vähä —
— Käännä käännä vasemalle! Ei saa näkyä yhtään valkoosta! Ei tingilläkään — hoki se viinavarastonhoitaja, vissihin piänes huipelis.
— No ei sitä ny niin vaan tingillä tätä paattia tyyräällä! — suuttuu yks’. — Pitää kattua kans vähä mihkä mennähän!
Siihen tuli toisiakin hasajamahan kurssista. Riitelivät niin, jotta yks’ heti alkumatkas löi laukkunsa pöytähän ja sanoo jotta:
Kun hetken taas oli seilattu rupes poikaan vethön naamaa totiseksi.
Kuiskutelivat toisillensa jotta:
— Mihkähän täs oikee lopuksi mennähän?
— Käännä oikialle! — vaatii yks’.
— Käännä vasemmalle! — vaatii toinen.
Samas rupes lastiruumasta kuulumahan aika mölinä. Tärähti kalliohon, kraapaasi häjysti pohjahan ja poikaan löi syränalan kylmäksi.
— Paatti vuataa! Me hukumma! — huuti kokkipoika ja juaksi ympäri kantta krääkyen kun miäletöön.
Mutta ne päämestarit hairasivat kokkipoikaa kraiveliista kiinni ja pänttäsivät köyrenpätkällä aika lailla.
Saunovat jotta:
Ei sellaasta saa sauna nii että pasiseerarit kuuloo, elikkä ne paiskaa meirän merehen! Pitää sanua, jotta hyvin menöö, vaikka pohjahan menisi.
— Eikhän pyyretä vähä vanhojen merimiästen apua? — ehrootti yks’ viisas niistä yhreksästä.
— Ei, ei vaikka katkees!
Siitä nousi uusi kuhina, joka loppuu siihen, että neljä miästä löi laukut pöytähän ja saunovat jotta:
— Toss o! Me pesemmä kätemmä!
Nousi kova myrsky ja hätä oli suuri. Silloon ne päättivät pyytää apua.
Huutivat, huutivat, pyytivät ja rukoolivat jotta:
— Tuikaa hyvät ihmiset auttohon! Saa tulla kuka vain tahtoo näihin nöörin päihin. Monarkistit ja punikit, terve veljet, tulkaa, helpakkaa helkutis! Ottakaa koko höskä — —
Mutta kukaan ei hualinu lähtiä.
Tuumasivat vain jotta:
— Antaa ny poikaan kiikkua ja kinnata, että muistaavakkin. Kylläpäs olivat noukka pystys mennes!
Mutta yks’ on täs hätääntynehes sakis, jok’ei poraja, eikä meinaa heittää virkaansa. S’oon sen kialtolakipaatti Suamen viinavarastonhoitaja. Elikkä niinkun sen virallinen nimi kuuluu: Minister licworum vitae, vinorum bonorum preserveerannes troppiorum-que.
Se on viisas ja ethensä kattovaanen miäs ja siksi hyvän osan valinnu.
Ja hullu oliskin, jos leililtä lähtis.
Mutta jos sen paikka tulis vapahaksi, niin kyllä totisesti olis tilahan tulijoota.
KAUPPANEUVOS OSTI ILVEKSEN NAHAAN.
Oottako kuullu kuinka petomaasesti kauppaneuvos Tukkusta huiputettihin nahkakaupoos niarkinaan aikana?
Kauppaneuvos Tukkunen käyskenteli käret seljän takana torilla markinamiästen joukos; katteli olisko mitää sellaasta tavaraa, jota häneltä puuttuus.
Siin’oliki kolme miästä nenät yhres ja yhrell’oli jokin karvaane nahka käres, jota se näytteli yhrelle herrammooselle miähelle erestä ja takaa.
— Mikäs nahka se on? — kysyy kauppaneuvos Tukkunen ja astuu likemmäs.
Otti kans yhrestä nahaan nurkasta kiinni, silootti ja tykkäs jotta:
— Kovasti siin’on siloone ja fiini karva. Minkä elävän nahka täm’on?
— He je kattlo — seliitti nahaanomistaja, jok’oli ruattalaane ja rokonarpinen.
Silloo se herrannäkööne miäs, joka siinä kans syynäs sitä nahkaa ja oli kovasti ymmärtävääsen näkööne, rupes tolkkaamhan jotta:
— Teme nakka ole sellane elävä ku ole mettäs ja istu puus. Se olla ei susi, eikä karhu, se ole niinku kissi ja istu puus ja ole oikke vihane ja aiva freesata. Se tappa lehmiä ja lamppata ja koira se pure knik knaks pää pois! —
Kauppaneuvos Tukkusen nousi tukka pystyhy ja käsi vapisi.
Sanoo viimmee jotta:
— Ei suinkaa se vaa tiikeri oo? —
— Ei, ei se tiikeri ole! — Få ja lov o presentteera, Kranpär, Kampia-Vaasa ladukool tispunent. Eikö härra olla Komesseroot Tukkunen?
— Joo, Tukkunen min’oon — sanoo kauppaneuvos ja kovasti puristi herra Latukoolin kättä.
— Se ole oikke fiini nakka, teme kattluu, mine meina osta se — sanoo se herra Latukooli. —
— Mutta eihän täs oo häntääkää, ku pikkuune pätkä! — imehteli kauppaneuvos Tukkunen. —. Mikäs se sellaane mettänpeto on, jollei oo häntää —
— Jaa, kattluu, sillä ei ole hänttä. Ei karhuka kulke häntä kans. Karhu häntä ole poikki. — —
