Sung in derision along the Welsh borders on St. David's Day. Formerly it was the custom of the London mob on this day to dress up a guy and carry him round the principal thoroughfares. The ragged urchins following sang the rhyme of "Taffy was a wicked Welshman." "MY FATHER HE DIED." The historical value of nursery rhymes is incapable of being better illustrated than in the following old English doggerel:-- "My father he died, I cannot tell how, He left me six horses to drive out my plough, With a wimmy lo! wommy lo! Jack Straw, blazey boys. Wimmy lo! wimmy lo! wob, wob, wob." Mr. Halliwell dates it as of Richard II.'s time, and this much may be said for this opinion, that there is no greater authority than he on the subject of early English rhymes and carols. Mr. Halliwell also believes that of British nursery rhymes it is the earliest extant. There are those, however, who dissent from this view, holding that many of the child's songs sung to-day were known to our Saxon forefathers. In 1835 Mr. Gowler, who wrote extensively on the archæology of English phrases and nursery rhymes, ingeniously attempted to claim whole songs and tales, giving side by side the Saxon and the English versions. There certainly was a phonetic similarity between them, but the local value of the Saxon, when translated, reads in a strange way, being little more than a protest against the Church's teaching and influence. "Who killed Cock Robin?" is given at length by Mr. Gowler, as well as many scraps of other nursery rhymes. Mr. Gowler seemed to claim that though the lettered language of each succeeding age fashions afresh, the Baby Kingdom knows no such vocal revolutions. CHAPTER XII. SCOTCH RHYMES. The great and alluring exercise of "Through the needle-e'e, boys" has this immemorial rhyme:-- "As I went up the Brandy Hill I met my father wi' gude will; He had jewels, he had rings, He had many braw things, He'd a cat-and-nine-tails, He'd a hammer wantin' nails. Up Jock, down Tam, Blaw the bellows, auld man, Through the needle-e'e, boys! Brother Jock, if ye were mine, I would give you claret wine; Claret wine's gude and fine, Through the needle-e'e, boys!" THE SCOTCH VERSION OF BRYAN O'LYNN. "Tam o' the Lin and a' his bairns Fell n' i' the fire in other's arms! Oh, quo' the bunemost, I ha'e a het skin!! It's hetter below, quo' Tam o' the Lin." * * * * * "Cripple Dick upon a stick, Sand your soo, ride away To Galloway To buy a pound o' woo." * * * * * "Pan, pan, play, Pan, pan, play, And gi'e the bairn meal, It's gotten nane the day." * * * * * "The robin and the wren Are God's cock and hen." * * * * *