My father was a Frenchman, He bought for me a fiddle, He cut me here, he cut me here, He cut me right in the middle. CCCXXXVI. [Patting the foot on the five toes.] Shoe the colt, shoe! Shoe the wild mare; Put a sack on her back, See if she'll bear. If she'll bear, We'll give her some grains; If she won't bear, We'll dash out her brains! [Illustration] CCCXXXVII. [Game on a child's features.] Here sits the Lord Mayor _forehead_. Here sit his two men _eyes_. Here sits the cock _right cheek_. Here sits the hen _left cheek_. Here sit the little chickens _tip of nose_. Here they run in _mouth_. Chinchopper, chinchopper, Chinchopper, chin! _chuck the chin_. CCCXXXVIII. [A play with the face. The child exclaims:] Ring the bell! _giving a lock of its hair a pull._ Knock at the door! _tapping its forehead._ Draw the latch! _pulling up its nose._ And walk in! _opening its mouth and putting in its finger._ CCCXXXIX. [An exercise during which the fingers of the child are enumerated.] Thumbikin, Thumbikin, broke the barn, Pinnikin, Pinnikin, stole the corn. Long back'd Gray Carried it away. Old Mid-man sat and saw, But Peesy-weesy paid for a'. CCCXL. This pig went to market, Squeak mouse, mouse, mousey; Shoe, shoe, shoe the wild colt, And here's my own doll, Dowsy. CCCXLI. [From Yorkshire. A game to alarm children.] Flowers, flowers, high-do! Sheeny, greeny, rino!-- Sheeny greeny, Sheeny greeny, Rum tum fra! CCCXLII. 1. This pig went to the barn. 2. This eat all the corn. 3. This said he would tell. 4. This said he wasn't well. 5. This went week, week, week, over the door sill. CCCXLIII. [The two following are fragments of a game called "The Lady of the Land," a complete version of which has not fallen in my way.] Here comes a poor woman from baby-land, With three small children in her hand: One can brew, the other can bake, The other can make a pretty round cake. One can sit in the garden and spin, Another can make a fine bed for the king; Pray ma'am will you take one in? CCCXLIV. I can make diet bread, Thick and thin; I can make diet bread, Fit for the king. CCCXLV. Here we come a piping, First in spring, and then in May; The queen she sits upon the sand, Fair as a lily, white as a wand: King John has sent you letters three, And begs you'll read them unto me.-- We can't read one without them all, So pray, Miss Bridget, deliver the ball! CCCXLVI. The first day of Christmas, My true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree. The second day of Christmas, My true love sent to me Two turtle doves and A partridge in a pear tree.