[40] An English variety, printed a century since in "Gammer Gurton's Garland," has as the first line of the refrain, _My-a-dildin, my-a-daldin_; and as the alternate line, _Lily white and shine-a_. The last phrase comes to us as the fragment of a game in Massachusetts, about 1800. We are reminded of the songs of Autolycus in "A Winter's Tale," "with such delicate burdens of _dildos_ and fadings." [41] Here verses may be improvised at pleasure; for instance, said the little reciter, "I'll give to you a dress of black, A green silk apron and a white cap, If you will marry," etc. [42] In the English version "to ring up _your maidens_." [43] Variation: "Here comes an old woman from Sunderland," or "Cumberland." [44] In Canada the game goes: J'ai tant d'enfants à marier! J'ai tant d'enfants à marier! Grand Dieu! je n' sais comment Pouvoir en marier tant. Mademoiselle, on parle à vous; On dit que vous aimez beaucoup; Si c'est vrai que vous aimez, Entrez dans la danse, entrez! [45] See Note; also No. 154, and Note. [46] Usually plural. [47] Or, dialectically, "every one his true lover _sarching_." [48] "Were his men like him, he'd command a regiment of Damons and _Philanders_."--"Two Faces under One Hood," by Thomas Dibdin. [49] From another version. [50] As Lodge has it-- Footing it featlie on the grassie ground, These damsels circling with their brightsome faires-- [51] Fifty years ago the corresponding French game was still played as a "game of society"-- Eh! qui marirons-nous? Mademoiselle, ce sera vous: Entrez dans la danse; J'aimerai qui m'aimera, j'aimerai qui m'aime. The round then proceeds-- Eh! qui lui donnerons-nous? Mon beau monsieur, ce sera vous. Amans, embrassez-vous, etc. [52] "Qui est-ce qui languira?" "Ce sera ---- ---- qui languira." "---- ---- la guerira." _French game in Cambrai_. II. _HISTORIES._ A fresh wreath of crimson roses Round my forehead twine will I; I will wear them for a garland, Wear them till the day I die. I desire that in my coffin May be room enough for three; For my father, for my mother, And my love to lie with me. Afterwards above the coffin We will let a flower grow; In the morning we will plant it, In the evening it will blow. Wayfarers will pause demanding, "Whose may be the flower there?" "'Tis the flower of Rosetina, She who died of love's despair." _Round of Girls in Venice._ No. 11. _Miss Jennia Jones._