Edited by Azizi Powell
This pancocojams post presents information about and American versions of the "Old Witch Game" from William Wells Newell's 1884 book "Collection Of American Children's Games & Songs". A transcription of that book is now found online.
The content of this post is presented for folkloric and recreational purposes.
All copyrights remain with their owners.
Thanks to the unknown creators of this game. Thanks to the collectors of this game and thanks to all those who are quoted in this post.
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The content of this post is presented for historical, folkloric, and recreational purposes.
All copyrights remain with their owners.
Thanks to William Wells Newell for his research on American children's rhyme. Thanks to all those who are quoted in that 1884 publication and thanks to gutenberg.org for publishing a free transcription of that book online.
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AN EXCERPT OF WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL'S 1884 COLLECTION OF AMERICAN CHILDREN'S SONGS AND RHYMES
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/45762/45762-h/45762-h.htm#Page_194
COLLECTED AND COMPARED
BY
WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
1884
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
All rights reserved.
[…]
No. 154.
"Old Witch.
A.—Ten girls, a mother, a witch, and eight children—namely,
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and the eldest
daughter Sue. The mother, preparing to go out, addresses her children:
Now all you children stay at home,
And be good girls while I am gone;
Let no one in[138]
Especially you, my daughter Sue,
Or else I'll beat you black and blue.[139]
The witch knocks at the door, and is refused entrance by the
children. She beguiles them by promises to admit her, which they finally do.
She then holds out her pipe (a bit of stick), which she carries between her
teeth, saying to Sue, "Light my pipe!" Sue refusing, she makes the
same demand to each child, in the order of the days of the week, in which they
are ranged. All refuse till she reaches the last, who consents and touches her
pipe, whereupon the witch seizes her hand, and drags her out of the house to
her "den."
The mother then returns, counts the children, and Sue is
questioned and punished. This is played over until each child is taken, Sue
last.
When the mother has lost all her children, the witch calls,
and invites her to dinner. Upon going to the witch's door, she finds a table
set for the meal, and the witch asks her to order a dish to suit her taste. She
does so, whereupon the witch produces Sunday, and lays her upon the table, with
considerable assistance from Sunday.
A very amusing dialogue now ensues between the witch and the
mother. The former urges the mother to eat, with many blandishments, and the
mother (recognizing her child) declines, with such excuses as any ingenious
child can devise.
The mother, upon pretence of inability to eat the food,
calls for another dish, and, when the witch leaves the room, hurries the child
from the table and places her behind the chair. When the witch returns, she
says that she found the dish so good that she ate it all, and calls for
another.
Each child is produced in turn, with the same result. When
all are arranged behind their mother, she calls for another dish, and when the
witch leaves the room to get it, runs home with all her children.
Hartford, Conn.
Our second version (B) is from the lips of a little girl in
New York city. The persons represented are the same, except that a servant
instead of one of the daughters is left to take care of the children. Scene,
the doorsteps, or "stoop," of a New York dwelling-house.
Mother [sings]. Chickany, chickany, crany, crow.
Went to the well to wash her great toe,
And when she came back her chicken was dead.[140]
[To Servant]. I am going out, and let nobody come in.
[Exit. Enter presently, Witch.
Witch [to Servant]. Give me a match to light my pipe.
Servant. I haven't any.
Witch. Your kettle's boiling over.
Servant. No.
Witch. Your kettle is boiling over.
Servant [goes to look]. Witch seizes a child and carries her
off. [Re-enter Mother.
Mother [to servant]. Where's my Monday?
Servant. Under the table.
Mother [calls]. Monday!
Servant. Up in the band-box![141]
Mother. How to get up?
Servant. Put two broken chairs on a broken table.
Mother. Suppose I should fall and break my neck?
Servant. Good enough for you.
Mother beats servant, but recovering from her loss, goes out
again. Witch enters as before, and carries off successively all the children,
and at last the servant. Witch then puts the children in a row, cooks them, and
makes them into pies, naming them apple-pie, peach-pie, etc. Mother goes out to
buy pies.
Mother [to Witch]. Have you any pies?
Witch. Yes, some very nice apple-pies, which you will like.
Mother [tastes]. This tastes like my Monday. [Re-animates
Monday.] Monday,
who brought you here? [Beats her, and sends her home.]
The mother proceeds in the same manner, and brings to life
the other children.
C.—The name of the witch in this variation is "Old
Mother Cripsy-crops," and the game begins by playing No. 89. When the
mother goes out, the children call after her, "Old mother, the kettle
boils." She answers, "Take a spoon and stir it." "We
haven't got any." "Buy one." "We have no money."
"Borrow," says the mother. "People won't lend," reply the
children.
The witch comes in, and entices Sunday away by fine
promises. When the mother comes back, she inquires, "Where's my
Sunday?" The children make some excuse, as, "Perhaps he has gone down
cellar," etc. She tells Tuesday to take care of Monday, as she had
previously placed Monday in charge of Sunday, and goes out again, when the same
scene is repeated, until all the children have been carried off.
The mother now calls at the witch's house, and asks to be
let in. The witch refuses, saying, "No, your shoes are too dirty."
"But I will take off my shoes." "Your stockings are too
dirty." "Then I will take off my stockings." "Your feet are
too dirty." "I will cut off my feet." "That would make the
carpet all bloody." "But I must see my children, and you have got
them." "What should I know about your children? But if you like you
may call to-morrow at twelve."
The mother departs, and as soon as she is gone the witch
goes to the children and renames them all. One she calls Mustard, another
Pepper, another Salt, another Vinegar, etc. Then she turns their faces to the
wall, and tells them to give these names if they are asked who they are. The
mother calls again at the house of the witch, and this time is admitted. She
asks the children what their names are, and they all answer as they were
instructed by the witch. She then asks the first child to let her feel his toe.
He puts up his foot, and when the mother feels it she says, "This is my
Sunday! let your big toe carry you home;" whereupon he runs off. The same
process is gone through with all the other children.
D.—To the mother (this time present), in the midst of her
children, approaches the witch, who comes limping, leaning on a cane. The
dialogue is between mother and witch.
"There's old mother Hippletyhop; I wonder what she
wants to-day?"
"I want one of your children."
"Which one do you want?"
The witch names any child of the row.
"What will you give her to eat?"
"Plum-cake" (a different delicacy for each child).
The witch carries off the child, and observes: "Walk as
I do, or else I'll kill you." She takes the child home and kills her, then
returns for another. When all are gone the mother goes out to look for her
children. She goes to the witch's house, and finds all the children (presumed
to be dead) against the wall, making the most horrible faces. She points to a
child, and asks, "What did [Mary] die of?" "She died of sucking
her thumbs" (naming the child's gesture). Suddenly all the children come
to themselves, and cry out, "Oh, mother, we are not dead!"
Portsmouth, N. H.
E.—In a fifth version, which we have failed to obtain in full, the witch changed the children into birds; and the mother, in order to recover them, must guess the name of the bird. Colors, instead of birds, were also used to represent the children.
F.—We have already spoken of the old English game of
"Honey-pots" as an imitation of "Weighing." This trait,
however, as might be supposed from its insignificant character, is a mere
fragment of the original. In London (as we learn from an informant of the
laboring class, who remembers taking part in the amusement), a child as
market-woman arranges the rest in a row to indicate honey-pots, each with its
specific flavor. While she is busy at one end of the row, a thief comes in and
steals a pot from the other end. This process is repeated, until all the pots
are taken. The dealer then goes out to buy honey-pots, and recognizes her own
by the flavor, so recovering the stolen goods.
This game without doubt is the most curious of our
collection, both on account of its own quaintness, and because of the
extraordinary relation in which it stands to the child's lore of Europe. We
have, in a note, endeavored to show that our American versions give the most
ancient and adequate representation now existing of a childish drama which has
diverged into numerous branches, and of which almost every trait has set up for
itself as an independent game. Several of these offshoots are centuries old, and
exist in many European tongues; while, so far as appears, their original has
best maintained itself in the childish tradition of the New World.
Among a great number of German forms, only one (from Suabia)
nearly corresponds to ours, with the exception of a corrupted ending.
In this childish drama a mother has many children, who
sleep. In her absence comes "Old Urschel" with her two daughters, the
"Night-maidens" (a sort of fairies), who steal three children, and
carry them off to their cave (hiding them behind their extended dresses). The
mother visits Urschel's abode to complain of the theft, but the
"Night-maidens," with deprecating gestures, deny any knowledge of the
lost. The action is then repeated, the eldest daughter (who plays the same part
as in our first version) being taken last.
When the mother's complaints are useless, she becomes a
witch. The next day Urschel takes her stolen family for a walk. The mother
comes up and pulls the dress of a child; by her magic art all feel it at the
same time, and cry to Urschel, "Oh, mother, somebody is pulling my
gown!" The latter replies, "It must be a dog." The mother then
asks and obtains leave to join the party, but endeavors to bewitch (or
disenchant) her children, who cry, "The Witch of London!" and scatter,
but are captured by the latter and turned into witches.[142]
In Sweden the mother is called "Lady Sun." An old
woman enters, propped on a cane, goes to Lady Sun's house and knocks. "Who
is that knocking at my door?" "An old woman, halt and blind, asks the
way to Lady Sun; is she at home?" "Yes." The old woman points
out a child, and asks, "Dear Lady Sun, may I have a chicken?" She is
refused at first, but by piteous entreaties obtains her wish, and returns,
until all the "chickens" are carried off. "She was not so lame
as she made believe," says Lady Sun, looking after her.
The antiquity of our game is sufficiently attested by the
wide diffusion of many of its comparatively recent variations. We remark,
further, that the idea of the child-eating demon, so prominently brought
forward in our American versions, is a world-old nursery conception. The
ancients were well acquainted with such feminine supernatural beings.
"More fond of children than Gello," says Sappho, referring to an
imaginary creature of the sort. The most ancient view of this passion for
stealing children was, that it was prompted by the appetite. Tales of ogres and
ogresses, who carried off and devoured young children, must have been as
familiar in the Roman nursery as in our own.
The trait of limping, characteristic of "witches"
in games, is equally ancient. That such demons are defective in one foot is
expressed by the ancient Greek name "Empusa" (literally One-foot), to
whom was attributed an ass's hoof, a representation which contributed to the
mediæval idea of the devil. A child's game, in which a boy, armed with a
knotted handkerchief, pursues his comrades, hopping on one foot, is known in
France as "The Limping Devil."[143] This game existed also in ancient
Greece.
The reanimation and recovery of the children, with which the
American performance closes, is a familiar trait of ancient nursery tales.”
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