by Albert Jack
Little Miss Muffet
LITTLE Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider
That sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
Arachnopohobia is clearly not a modern complaint. Although cobwebs have traditionally been used as a dressing for wounds (and, scientifically tested, have turned out to contain all kinds of antibiotics), spiders have long been seen as malevolent. Richard III, presented by William Shakespeare as the most evil English king, is described as ‘a bottled spider’, which comes from the belief that spiders were inherently toxic – if one were dropped into a glass of water, every drop would be poisoned. It is therefore entirely understandable that this particular little girl from days gone by would have been frightened away by one, but in fact there’s more to the origins of this rhyme…
‘Little Miss Muffet’ first appeared in print in Scotland in 1805, but it was probably around for a long time before that. Some Scottish historians believe Miss Muffet to be Mary, Queen of Scots (1542-87), and the spider John Knox
(c. 1510-72), the great Protestant reformer and founder of the powerful Presbyterian Church in Scotland. Knox’s best-known work was The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women (1558) – a notorious attack against the female Roman Catholic sovereigns of the day, in particular Mary I of Scotland and Mary I of England, in which he stated that his purpose was to demonstrate ‘how abominable before God is the Empire or Rule of a wicked woman, yea, of a traiteresse and bastard’. Which goes some way to explaining why he and the young queen were unlikely to see eye to eye, even if she hadn’t had such a turbulent and very public love life – twice married, to the French Dauphin (Francis II) and Lord Darnley, both Catholics, and with a purported lover, David Rizzio, murdered by a jealous Darnley. Knox held vast religious influence in Scotland and regularly rebuked Mary, often openly attacking her in his sermons. Eventually her nobles rebelled and she ran away to England, but her cousin Elizabeth turned out to be even less keen on her presence than Knox. Mary was kept under house arrest for nineteen years and then executed. So the Scottish line is that if only Miss Muffet had made friends with the spider, everything could have been so different for her – and for spiders too for that matter.
However, an English interpretation of the rhyme is rather more domestic. Historians point to the eminent English physician Dr Thomas Muffet (1553-1604), staunchly Puritan in his beliefs and therefore close in spirit to John Knox. What he is best known for is his study of insects, particularly spiders, and how they relate to medicine. Hence it is easy to imagine one of Dr Muffet’s daughters sitting on a small, three-legged stool (a tuffet), eating her curds and whey (a dairy product, not unlike cottage cheese), when one of his spiders dropped down and frightened the living curds out of her.
Little Polly Flinders
LITTLE Polly Flinders
Sat among the cinders,
Warming her pretty little toes.
Mother came and caught her,
And whipped her little daughter
For spoiling her nice new clothes.
The rhyme was first published in 1805 as ‘Little Jenny Flinders’. From this we see how Flinders is more significant than either Polly or ‘Jenny’ simply because it rhymes with cinders and thus ties into a whole series of fairy tales of the rags-to-riches variety. In each case, the beautiful and generally motherless heroine is oppressed by evil relatives and hidden away in the kitchen, her beauty disguised with soot and dirt, in order that someone else (usually an ugly sister) can steal her happy ending.
One of our most famous fairy stories (from a different ‘Mother Goose’ collection, that of the French writer Charles Perrault – see the Introduction) shows this clearly, Cinderella’s very name indicating the dirt she’s covered in. Like Polly, and indeed any aspiring princess, she needs clean and beautiful clothes to snare her Prince Charming and get out of the kitchen.
Unlike the story, however, the nursery rhyme is a cautionary tale, warning ordinary little girls not to dream of themselves as fairy-tale figures; that they need to keep their clothes clean because no fairy godmother is going to magically fix things for them and because, if they don’t, Mama will go mad and they’ll be for it.
Little Tommy Tucker
LITTLE Tommy Tucker,
Sings for his supper;
What shall he eat?
Brown bread and butter.
How will he cut it
Without any knife?
How will he marry
Without a wife?
In medieval times, it was common for travelling musicians and wandering minstrels to sing, dance or play tunes to a packed tavern in return for a bite to eat and a few jars of stout. The expression ‘singing for your supper’, already proverbial, would have become even better known after 1829, following the first publication of ‘Little Tommy Tucker’. Regarded by most as a gentle children’s nursery rhyme, the lyrics actually poke fun at the unfortunate orphans – for whom the name Tommy Tucker was a colloquial term – who were often reduced to singing, or begging, for their food. The rhyme also refers to the desperate situation of orphans in the days before the welfare state – with no status, possessions, family or people who wanted to be associated with them. And little likelihood, therefore, of improving their lot (How will he marry / Without a wife?).
London Bridge Is Falling Down
LONDON Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down;
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Take a key and lock her up,
Lock her up, lock her up;
Take a key and lock her up,
My fair lady.
How will we build it up,
Build it up, build it up?
How will we build it up,
My fair lady?
Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay;
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair lady.
Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away;
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair lady.
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar;
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
My fair lady.
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
Will not stay, will not stay;
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
My fair lady.
Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel, iron and steel;
Build it up with iron and steel,
My fair lady.
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Bend and bow, bend and bow;
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
My fair lady.
Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold, silver and gold;
Build it up with silver and gold,
My fair lady.
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Stolen away, stolen away;
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
My fair lady.
Set a man to watch all night,
Watch all night, watch all night;
Set a man to watch all night,
My fair lady.
Suppose the man should fall asleep,
Fall asleep, fall asleep?
Suppose the man should fall asleep,
My fair lady?
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
Smoke all night, smoke all night;
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
My fair lady.
The Romans constructed the original London Bridge out of wood and clay in the year ad 60, paving the way for the expansion of Londinium to the south of the River Thames. However, after the Romans left 350 years later, the bridge fell into disrepair (wood
and clay will wash away). It was first rebuilt in stone in the twelfth century (Build it up with bricks and mortar).
There was a long-held pre-Christian belief that burying someone in the foundations of important buildings meant that their spirit would magically protect the structure. For a building as vital to the success of London as the bridge, this could well have made sense. Variations of ‘London Bridge Is Falling Down’ exist in many other European countries, telling similar tales about their own famous bridges. In fact, when Bridge Gate in Bremen, Germany, was demolished during the nineteenth century, it is said that the skeleton of a child was discovered sealed inside the foundations. So there is every chance the fair lady who is locked into the bridge in the second verse of the rhyme is the virgin who, legend has it, was secretly buried beneath the bridge during the building work in the twelfth century. As the protective spirit, she is called upon throughout the poem as the person who will know what is best for the bridge.
By the mid 1300s, over 140 shops and houses had been constructed upon the bridge and most of them were used for international trading, especially of gold and silver, as those traders would locate their businesses close to the river in order to trade with the importing merchants docking their ships nearby. This is probably why the reference to silver and gold is used in the rhyme, suggesting that it could have been composed at any point between 1300 and 1666 (before the Great Fire), although this particular verse may well have been added to the original text as the bridge, and the goings-on upon it, developed over the years.
In 1666, London Bridge somehow managed to survive the Great Fire of London although some of the arches and foundations were badly damaged. Nevertheless it remained in use until 1758 when the houses and some of the arches were removed as traffic increased along the river. The final verse of the rhyme has clearly been added during the seventeenth century, as pipe smoking was unknown in Europe before Sir Walter Raleigh brought tobacco back from Virginia – along with the potato.
A favourite story to do with London Bridge concerns the newer Victorian model. It was famously bought at auction in 1968 for $2,460,000 by American oil baron Robert P. McCulloch, who had it dismantled and shipped via the Panama Canal to Arizona, where he had it reconstructed, brick by brick, so that it stands today as the world’s largest antique. The story goes that the American had, in fact, been fooled into thinking he was buying the more famous landmark of Tower Bridge, often called London Bridge by clueless tourists. The idea that his workmen might have been piecing together his new bridge, brick by brick, in his back garden only for it to become slowly apparent it was not the splendid London landmark depicted on tea towels and T-shirts the world over was hugely amusing to many.
But sadly that story isn’t true. After all, when the old London Bridge was put up for auction, any potential bidder would have carried out feasibility studies and structural surveys before interested parties were invited to tender. Only a complete fool could spend nearly two and a half million dollars on the wrong thing, and oil billionaires do not usually turn out to be village idiots.
But there is another theory altogether concerning this nursery rhyme. Some historians see it as the modern version of an eleventh-century Norse poem written by Ottar the Black celebrating King Ethelred’s use of London Bridge to conquer the occupying Viking forces in 1014. Ethelred arranged for his close ally, King Olaf of Norway, to sail his fleet along the Thames and attach his ships to the wooden structure of the bridge. As the tide turned, his boats sailed and the bridge was simply towed away. The two kings then stormed the Danish stronghold and London was liberated from Viking rule. But see for yourself:
London Bridge is broken down,
Gold is won, and bright renown;
Shields resounding, War horns sounding,
Hildur shouting in the din! Arrows singing,
Mailcoats ringing –Odin makes our Olaf win!
King Ethelred has found a friend,
Brave Olaf will his throne defend;
In bloody fight
Maintain his right,
Win back his land
With blood-red hand,
And Edmund his son upon his throne replace –
Edmund, the star of every royal race!
Edmund, the son of Ethelred, succeeded his father as king of England on 24 April 1016. Unfortunately, the star of every royal race died later that year, so the celebrations were somewhat premature.
London’s Burning
LONDON’S burning, London’s burning,
Fetch the engines, fetch the engines;
Fire, fire, fire, fire! Pour on water,
pour on water.
‘London’s Burning’ is a round, a musical composition in which two or more voices sing exactly the same melody (and may continue repeating it indefinitely), but with each voice beginning at different times so that different parts of the melody coincide in the different voices, but nevertheless fit harmoniously together. (See also Frère Jacques and Turn Again, Whittington.)
The song is usually associated with the Great Fire of London of 1666. But in fact there have been many serious fires in London, beginning in ad 61 when Queen Boudicca and the Iceni tribe torched the place after chasing the Romans out of town. The flames were so fierce that the ashes formed a thick layer that can still be clearly identified by modern archaeologists.
‘London’s Burning’ is a relentlessly circular song that could go on for ever, reflecting the frequent fires that have engulfed parts of the capital. And of all the famous landmarks of London that have regularly been caught up in the conflagration, St Paul’s, first built in ad 604 on Ludgate Hill, has been the most frequent victim. In 675, a major fire broke out, destroying most of the town, including the Saxon cathedral of St Paul’s, largely constructed of wood. It was rebuilt in stone between 675 and 685, then destroyed by the Vikings in 961. A rebuilt St Paul’s was, yet again, destroyed by fire in 1087 during the reign of William Rufus (see Who Killed Cock Robin?).
There were more destructive fires in the capital in 1130 and 1132, while in 1212 the Great Fire of Southwark destroyed large parts of the town. In 1561, the cathedral was burned after being struck by lightning, although the rest of London remained undamaged until the Great Fire in 1666 ravaged everything in its path, including the unfortunate cathedral yet again. In a later century, there was another kind of threat. During an air raid on 12 September 1940, the last time London was ablaze thanks to the hostilities of the Second World War, a German bomb with a delayed timing device hit the cathedral. The bomb might easily have destroyed St Paul’s had it not been for the bravery of Temporary Lieutenant Robert Davies, who risked his life to successfully defuse it. Davies was later awarded the George Cross for his actions. Clearly God is not a fireman, but he may be a bomb disposal expert – or a helper of bomb disposal experts.
Lucy Locket
LUCY Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
Not a penny was there in it,
Only ribbon ’round it.
The words to this rhyme involve real people living in London during the mid 1700s and the tune was later more famously used as the melody for another song (see Yankee Doodle Dandy). The real Lucy Locket was apparently a London barmaid working at the famous Cock Inn in Fleet Street during the eighteenth century, while the song itself, far from being a simple children’s rhyme, clearly challenges her virtue and suggests that she had a second job in another ‘profession’ – the oldest one of all.
The story goes that one of Lucy’s lovers (her pocket) had run through all his funds and consequently found himself out of favour with the young barmaid. It is said that he then took up with Kitty Fisher (d. 1767), a well-known courtesan – painted by Joshua Reynolds and encountered by Casanova, who refused to sleep with her, however, as she spoke only English whereas he ‘liked to have all [his] senses, even that of hearing, gratified’. She took in Lucy’s cast-off lover, despite his lack of wealth, and then taunted Lucy for her meanness. Kitty’s claim that s
he had found a ribbon ’round him was a regular insult in catfights of the day because common prostitutes were known to keep their money tied to an upper thigh with a ribbon. So one of our most famous children’s rhymes is not the innocent ditty that it first appears but a sordid exchange between two ladies of easy virtue.
The Man in the Moon
THE man in the moon
Came tumbling down
And asked his way to Norwich;
He went by the south,
And burned his mouth
While supping cold plum porridge.
For centuries, people have seen in the surface of the moon either a face or the shape of a man, traditionally believed to be carrying a bundle of sticks and with a little dog at his side. Quite why, in the rhyme, he wanted to go to Norwich is anybody’s guess – clearly he didn’t know any other towns that rhymed with porridge. And quite why he should burn his mouth on something cold is another conundrum – one intended to amuse a child audience.
According to Western folklore, one Sunday, a long time ago, an old man went into the woods with his dog to collect firewood. Having gathered enough sticks, he slung his bag over his shoulder and began the trudge home. Before long, he met a man, who stopped him and said, ‘It is Sunday. Don’t you know that all good Christians should be resting from their work today?’ The old man laughed and replied, ‘Sunday on earth, Monday in heaven, it is all the same to me.’ The man, a good Christian himself, was outraged: ‘Then bear your burden for ever. As you do not value Sunday on earth, then every day will be a moon day for you. You shall stand for eternity in the moon as a warning to all Sabbath breakers.’ With that, the man banished the old fellow to the moon, along with his dog and his bundle of sticks.
