Guernsey Folk Lore: a collection of popular superstitions, legendary tales, peculiar customs, proverbs, weather sayings, etc., of the people of that islandMacCulloch, Edgar, Sir
History
Guernsey Folk Lore: a collection of popular superstitions, legendary tales, peculiar customs, proverbs, weather sayings, etc., of the people of that island
MacCulloch, Edgar, Sir
Folklore -- Guernsey
I am informed by a worthy monk that the good news announced by these
mystical words had nothing to do with the religion of Christ, and that,
being interpreted, they only tell us that ‘the wheat is upspringing--le
bled germe.’ _Eit_ and _od_ originally implied not wheat only, but
every sort of grain and seed. Thus it appears that what at first sight
defied all rational conjecture--the ‘oguinâni, oguinâno,’ cry of
our small gentry, once formed the immemorial chorus of an Armorican
hymn--the pure heathen liturgical relic of some Gaulish festival.
The primitive ditty was full of allusions to the increase of light,
the revival of vegetable nature, and other seasonable topics. The
noisy little heralds of this pleasing intelligence received for their
reward an ‘oguinâne,’ or, as it is now called, ‘leurs hirvières’--an
_hibernum donum_ or _winter_ gift. It is true that a few half-learned
lexicographers talk of the mistletoe and ‘Au Guy l’An Neuf;’ but the
French savans were systematic haters of France’s aboriginal languages,
and the minor Latin poet who invented this nonsensical interpretation
of a word whose etymon he was too lazy to dig for in its native mine
has hardly been dead two centuries.”
[15] EDITOR’S NOTE.--The old people of St. Martin’s parish still (1896)
talk of having in their youth gone to the neighbours’ houses on New
Year’s Eve singing the following rhyme:--
_“Bon jour, Monsieur! Bon jour, Madame!_
_Je n’vous ai pas vu acouâre ~(encore)~ chut ~(cette)~ an._
_Et je vous souhaite une bouâne année,_
_Et mes irvières s’i’vous plliet.”_
And a little bowl or bag of pennies was always at hand for gratuities.
La Grand’ Querrue.
“And at the farm on the lochside of Rannock, in parlour and kitchen,
Hark! there is music--yea, flowing of music, of milk, and of whiskey;
Dancing and drinking, the young and the old, the spectators and actors,
Never not actors the young, and the old not always spectators:
Lo, I see piping and dancing!”
--_“The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich,” by A. H. Clough._
[Illustration: La Grand’ Querrue.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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