NURSERY RHYMES*: A DIALOGUE, by Samuel G. Goodrich (from Robert Merry's Museum, August 1846, pp. 52-54)
Timothy.--Mother! mother! do stop a minute, and hear me say my poetry.
Mother.--Your poetry, my son? Who told you how to make poetry?
T.--O, I don't know; but hear what I have made up.
M.--Well, go on.
T.--Now don't you laugh; it's all mine. I didn't get a bit of it out of a book. Here it is!
"Higglety, pigglety, pop!
The dog has ate the mop
The pig's in a hurry,
The cat's in a flurry--
Higglety, pigglety--pop."
M.--Well, go on.
T.--Why, that's all. Don't you think it pretty good?
M.--Really, my son, I don't see much sense in it.
T.--Sense? Whoever thought of sense in poetry? Why, mother, you gave me a book the other day, and it was all poetry, and I don't think there was a bit of sense in the whole of it. Hear me read. [Reads].
"Hub a dub!
Three men in a tub--
And how do you think they got there?
The butcher,
The baker,
The candlestick-maker,
They all jumped out of a rotten potato
'Twas enough to make a man stare."
And here's another.
"A cat came fiddling out of a barn, With a pair of bagpipes under her arm; She could sing nothing but fiddle cum fee-- The mouse has married the humble-bee-- Pipe, cat--dance, mouse-- We'll have a wedding at our good house."
And here's another.
"Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon--
The little dog laughed
To see the craft,
And the dish ran after the spoon."
Now, mother, the book is full of such things as these, and I don't see any meaning in them.
M.--Well, my son, I think, as you do they are really very absurd.
T.--Absurd? Why, then, do you give me such things to read?
M.--Let me ask you a question. Do
* See "Nursery Rhymes, of England, &c., collected and edited by James Orchard Halliwell, Esq.," recently published.
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p. 53
you not love to read these rhymes, even though they are silly?
T.--Yes, dearly.
M.--Well, you have just learned to read, and I thought these jingles, silly as they are, might induce you to study your book, and make yourself familiar with reading.
T.--I don't understand you, mother; but no matter.
"Higglety, pigglety, pop! The dog has ate the mop; The pig's in a hurry--"
M.--Stop, stop, my son. I choose you should understand me.
T.--But, mother, what's the use of understanding you?
"Higglety, pigglety, pop!"
M.--Timothy!
T.--Ma'am?
M.--Listen to me, or you will have cause to repent it. Listen to what I say. I gave you the book to amuse you, and improve your reading, not to form your taste in poetry.
T.--Well, mother, pray forgive me. I did not mean to offend you. But I really do love poetry, because it is so silly!
"Higglety, pigglety, pop!"
M.--Don't say that again, Timothy!
T.--Well, I won't; but I'll say something out of this pretty book you gave me.
"Doodledy, doodledy, dan!
I'll have a piper to be my good man--
And if I get less meat, I shall get game--
Doodledy, doodledy dan!"
M.--That's enough, my son.
T.--But, dear mother, do hear me read another.
"We're all in the dumps,
For diamonds are trumps--
The kittens are gone to St. Paul's--
The babies are bit--
The moon's in a fit--
And the houses are built without walls."
M.--I do not wish to hear any more.
T.--One more; one more, dear mother.
"Round about--round about--
Maggotty pie--
My father loves good ale,
And so do I."
Don't you like that, mother?
M.--No; it is too coarse, and unfit to be read or spoken.
T.--But it is here in this pretty book you gave me, and I like it very much, mother. And here is a poem, which I think very fine.
"One-ery, two-eery, Ziccary zan, Hollow bone, crack a bone-- Ninery ten: Spittery spat, It must be done, Twiddledum, tweddledum, Twenty-one, Hink, spink, the puddings stink["]
M.--Stop, stop, my son. Are you not ashamed to say such things?
T.--Ashamed? No, mother. Why should I be? It's all printed here as plain as day. Ought I to be ashamed to say any thing I find in a pretty book you have given me? Just hear the rest of this.
"Hink, spink, the puddings--"
M.--Give me the book, Timothy. I see that I have made a mistake; it is not a proper book for you.
T.--Well, you may take the book, but I can say the rhymes, for I have learnt them all by heart.
"Hink, spink, the puddings--"
M.--Timothy, how dare you!
T.--Well, mother, I won't say it, if you don't wish me to. But mayn't I say
"Higglety, pigglety, pop!"
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p. 54
M.--I had rather you would not.
T.--And "Doodledy, doodledy dan"--mayn't I say that?
M.--No.
T.--Nor "Hey diddle, diddle"?
M.--I do not wish you to say any of those silly things.
T.--Dear me, what shall I do?
M.--I had rather you would learn some good sensible things.
T.--Such as what?
M.--Watts's Hymns, and Original Hymns.
T.--Do you call them sensible things? I hate 'em.
"Doodledy, doodledy dan!"
M.--[Aside.] Dear, dear, what shall I do? The boy has got his head turned with these foolish rhymes. It was really a very unwise thing to put a book into his hands, so full of nonsense and vulgarity. The rhymes seem to stick like burs [sic] in his mind, and the coarsest and vilest seem to be best remembered. I must remedy this mistake; but I see it will take all my wit to do so. [Aloud.] Timothy, you must give me up this book, and I will get you another.
T.--Well, mother, I am sorry to part with it--but I don't care so much about it, as I know all the best of it by heart.
"Hink, spink, the puddings--"
fs; M.--You'll have a box on the ear, if you repeat that.
T.--Well, I suppose I can say,
"Round about--round about--
Maggotty pie--"
M.--You go to bed!
T.--Well, if I must, I must. Good night, mother!
"Higglety, pigglety, pop! The dog has ate the mop; The cat's in a flurry, The cow's in a hurry, Higglety, pigglety, pop!"
Good night, mother!