This pretty song has been recited to us by informants of the most cultivated class, and, on the other hand, we have seen it played as a round by the very "Arabs of the street," in words identically the same. It is an old English song, which has been fitted for a ring-game by the composition of an additional verse, to allow the selection of a partner. [Illustration] "There she stands, a lovely creature, Who she is, I do not know; I have caught her for her beauty,-- Let her answer, yes or no. "Madam, I have gold and silver, Lady, I have houses and lands, Lady, I have ships on the ocean, All I have is at thy command." "What care I for your gold and silver, What care I for your houses and lands, What care I for your ships on the ocean-- _All I want is a nice young man._" _New York._ No. 7. _Green Grow the Rushes, O!_ In former times, the amusements of young people at their winter-evening gatherings consisted almost entirely of "playing games." On such occasions the following rhyme was used (in eastern Massachusetts) about the beginning of the century, to select partners for the ring. Chairs were placed in a circle, and the players of one sex seated, so as to leave alternate vacant places, for which they chose occupants, singing-- "Green grow the rushes, O! Green grow the rushes, O! He who will my true love be, Come and sit by the side of me." Those waiting to be selected sang, "Pick and choose, but choose not me, Choose the fairest you can see." This dialogue was repeated for each player until all were taken in, which, if the party was numerous, of necessity took a long time. No. 8. _The Widow with Daughters to Marry._ A child, representing a mother, is followed by a file of daughters, each grasping the frock of the girl in front. There comes a poor widow from Barbary-land,[43] With all her children in her hand; One can brew, and one can bake, And one can make a wedding-cake; Pray take one, Pray take two, Pray take one that pleases you.[44] _Philadelphia._ The "poor widow" is also represented as having only one daughter left. Sister, O Phoebe, how happy we be, As we go under the juniper-tree! We'll put on our night-caps to keep our heads warm, And two or three kisses will do us no harm-- Will do us no harm, Io! I am a poor widow, a-marching around, And all of my daughters are married but one; So rise up my daughter, and kiss whom you please, And kiss whom you please, Io! _Philadelphia._ Another old version of this round: I am a rich widow, I live all alone, I have but one daughter, and she is my own; Go, daughter, go choose, go choose your one, Go choose a good one, or else choose you none.