"The master or the mistress of this round is called _doctor_. This doctor takes the arm of the person seated on his right, regards him or her with an eye of compassion, feels his pulse, and then gives his order, which everybody repeats, singing, 'Give me your arm that I may cure you, for you seem to me to look ill.'[80] Then, designating by a glance some person of the other sex, he says, 'Embrace monsieur (or madame) to cure you; it is an excellent remedy.' All the persons in the ring are submitted to this treatment, which the physician knows how to render piquant by the choice of the panacea which he recommends to his patient; when everybody is cured, the doctor passes over his science and dignity to the last person who has tested the efficacy of his prescription, and in his turn falls sick, to make trial of the pleasing remedy." The general theme of our vulgarized round is more agreeably expressed in the quaint and ancient Canadian song which we have cited as the motto of the present chapter. No. 37. _Old Grimes._ Old Grimes is dead and in his grave laid, In his grave, in his grave, in his grave laid-- _O aye O!_ There grew up an apple-tree over his head-- The apples were ripe and ready to fall-- Then came an old woman a-picking them up-- Old Grimes got up and gave her a kick-- And made her go hobbledy, hobbledy, hip-- The bridles and saddles they hang on the shelf-- And if you want any more you must sing it yourself-- _O aye O!_ _New York streets._ A friend informs us that he has often heard the words of this unintelligible round sung as a "shanty," or song used by sailors at their work, with the chorus, _yeo heave-ho_! In Cambridge, Mass., the name of the deceased was "Old Cromwell." We have also a version of half a century since, beginning, Jemmy and Nancy went up to Whitehall, Jemmy fell sick among them all. No. 38. _The Baptist Game._ Such is the peculiar title of this amusement in Virginia, where it is said to be enjoyed by pious people who will not dance. There is a row of couples, with an odd player at the head. At the sudden close of the song occurs a grand rush and change of partners. [Illustration] Come, all ye young men, in your evil ways, And sow your wild oats in your youthful days; You shall be happy, You shall be happy, When you grow old. The night is far spent, and the day's coming on, So give us your arm, and we'll jog along, You shall be happy, You shall be happy, When you grow old. _Albemarle Co., Va._ This game, with verbal identity (save the title), was a few years since an amusement of well-bred girls in New York city. It has also been familiar in Massachusetts, with the exception of one line-- Come all ye _old maids_ in your sinful ways! No. 39.