Lancashire Folk-lore: Illustrative of the Superstitious Beliefs and Practices, Local Customs and Usages of the People of the County PalatineHarland, John
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Lancashire Folk-lore: Illustrative of the Superstitious Beliefs and Practices, Local Customs and Usages of the People of the County Palatine
Harland, John
Folklore -- England -- Lancashire; Lancashire (England) -- Social life and customs
Here come I,
Little David Doubt;
If you don't give me money,
I'll sweep you all out.
Money I want,
Money I crave;
If you don't give me money,
I'll sweep you all to the grave.
THE HOBBY HORSE, OR OLD BALL.
In an old painted window at Betley, Staffordshire, exhibiting in twelve
diamond-octagon panes, the mummers and morris-dancers of May-day, the
centre pane below the May-pole represents the old hobby-horse, supposed
to have once been the King of the May, though now a mere buffoon. The
hobby (of this window) is a spirited horse of pasteboard, in which the
master dances and displays tricks of legerdemain, &c. In the horse's
mouth is stuck a ladle, ornamented with a ribbon; its use being to
receive the spectators' pecuniary donations. In Lancashire the old
custom seems to have so far changed, that it is the head of a dead horse
that is carried about at Christmas, as described amongst the Easter
customs. "Old Ball" bites everybody it can lay hold of, and holds its
victims till they buy their release with a few pence.
CHRISTMAS CUSTOMS IN THE FYLDE.
The Rev. W. Thornber[180] describes the Christmas gambols and customs in
the Fylde nearly a century ago, as having been kept up with great
spirit. The midnight carols of the church-singers[181]--the penny laid
on the hob by the fireside, the prize of him who came first to the outer
door, to "let Christmas in,"--the regular round of visits--the treat of
mince pies[182]--in turn engrossed their attention. Each farm-house and
hut possessed a pack of cards, which were obtained as an alms from the
rich, if poverty forbade the purchase. Night after night of Christmas
was consumed in poring over these dirty and obscured cards. Nor were the
youngsters excluded from a share in the amusements of this festal
season. Early, long before dawn, on Christmas morning, young voices
echoed through streets and lanes, in the words of the old song--
Get up old wives,
And bake your pies,
'Tis Christmas-day in the morning;
The bells shall ring,
The birds shall sing,
Tis Christmas-day in the morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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