Pop Goes the Weasel - Nursery Rhyme - Mother Goose Club Pop Goes the Weasel – Nursery Rhyme Categories Pop Goes the Weasel Lyrics: Round and round the cobbler’s bench, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it was all in fun. Pop goes the weasel. A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle. That’s the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel. Round and round the mulberry bush, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey stopped to pull up his socks. Pop goes the weasel. Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle. Mix it up and make it nice. Pop goes the weasel. Ha ha ha ha ha hoo! Pop goes the weasel. Round and round the cobbler’s bench, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it was all in fun. Pop goes the weasel. A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle. That’s the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel. That’s the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel. Why does the weasel go pop?

- the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes | Daily Mail Online Why does the weasel go pop? - the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes By DEBORAH COLLCUTT Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; All the king's horses and all the king's men Couldn't put Humpty together again The real Humpty Dumpty was not a person but a powerful cannon used by the Royalist forces during the English Civil War of 1642 to 1651. Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle led the King's men and overpowered the Parliament stronghold of Colchester early in 1648. They grimly held on while the Parliamentarians, led by Thomas Fairfax, encircled and besieged the town. The supporters of Charles I almost won the day - all thanks to his doughtiest defender, Humpty Dumpty. In pole position, as it were, on top of the church tower of St Mary-at-the-Walls (Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall) their gunners managed to blast away the attacking Roundhead troops for 11 weeks.

Illlustrations: Kingfisher Eventually, though, the top of the church tower was blown away, sending Humpty Dumpty crashing to the ground, where it buried itself in deep marshland (Humpty Dumpty had a great fall). The king's cavalry (the horses) and the infantry (the men) hurried to retrieve the cannon, but they couldn't put Humpty together again - and without their weapon of mass destruction they were soon overrun by Fairfax and his soldiers. Pop Goes the Weasel Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle. That's the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel. There has been much debate over the years about the meaning of Pop Goes The Weasel. A hugely popular music-hall song, its memorable and seemingly nonsensical lyrics spread like wildfire throughout Victorian London. But is there more to the rhyme than meets the eye? In the 1680s, the poor and immigrants lived outside the walls of the City of London in Spitalfields, Hoxton and Shoreditch and slaved away in London's textile industry, which was based there. Packed with sweatshops, it was also the site of many music halls and theatres.

One theory suggests that Pop Goes The Weasel was an attempt to turn the grim reality of local people's lives into a hit song. In the textile industry, a spinner's weasel was a mechanical thread-measuring device in the shape of a spoked wheel, that accurately measured out yarn by making a popping sound to indicate the correct length had been reached. The mind-numbing and repetitive nature of the work is captured in the final line of each verse, indicating that whatever you were doing, or wherever your mind had wandered to, reality was never far away with the weasel to pop you alert again. Polly Put the Kettle On Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on; We'll all have tea. Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again; They've all gone away. One theory about the origins of this rhyme centres on the life of an unnamed writer in London in the mid-18th century with his young family of two boys and three girls. Supposedly, there were many arguments between the children about who could play in which room of the house.

The girls, keen to be rid of the noisy boys, would often pretend to start a tea party. The youngest, Polly, would reach for the toy kettle as the other girls sang 'Polly put the kettle on'. At this point, the boys would scarper Their father was so enamoured of the girls' cheek that he wrote it all down, set it to music and the rhyme was later published. Jack and Jill Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. Taken at face value, the rhyme doesn't make sense. Why do Jack and Jill go up the hill to fetch water? Water generally runs downhill, so perhaps it's a cover story for something else. A small village in Somerset has laid claim to the origin of the rhyme. The story told in Kilmersdon is that during 1697 the village was home to a young unmarried couple who did a lot of their courting up on a hill, away from the prying eyes of the local gossips. Consequently Jill became pregnant, but just before the baby was born Jack was killed by a rock that fell off the hill and landed on his head.

Only days later, Jill also died in childbirth. It's cheery stuff. The rhyme is today depicted on a series of tablet stones along the path to the hill. Old King Cole Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl And he called for his fiddlers three. Some believe that the rhyme must have been written after the introduction of tobacco to Europe in 1564. But it might go back much further, to the early part of the first millennium, where the pipe was much more likely to have been the double aulos, an ancient reed instrument, and the bowl a type of drum. In addition, the word coel is the Gaelic word for 'music', so could Old King Cole be the 'Old King of Music' - the venerable leader of a band, playing the pipe and drum with his fiddlers three? Or could he have been a real person? We find three candidates dating back to the Roman occupation and three rulers of Colchester - known as the Kings of Cole.

Ride a Cock Horse Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross To see a fine lady upon a white horse; With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes. Some argue that only one historic figure could inspire such a rhyme. Step forward Lady Godiva, England's favourite naked horsewoman. During the 11th century, Leofric, the Earl of Mercia, tried to impose heavy taxes on his countrymen, provoking outrage and near riots. Leofric's wife, Godgifu (changed over time to Godiva), sympathised with the common people and urged her husband to lower the new taxes he had levied. Now, Leofric was obviously a man with a sense of humour because he told his wife he would lower taxes only after she had ridden naked through the streets of Coventry. But he hadn't reckoned upon Godiva's spirit and, much to his surprise, she agreed to the challenge. The delighted people of Coventry, as a show of respect and to spare her blushes, all agreed to stay indoors, close their shutters and face the other way as the lady passed by.

She rode through the streets on her beloved white horse, completely naked apart from her wedding ring (rings on her fingers), and with bells attached to her toes to remind the people of Coventry not to look out of their windows. All the citizens kept their word, except for Tom the tailor, who couldn't help himself and peeped out through the shutters - hence the expression 'Peeping Tom'. According to legend, Tom was then struck blind. Doctor Foster In a shower of rain. He stepped in a puddle Right up to his middle And never went there again One theory runs that the origins of this verse stretch back more than 700 years to Edward I (1239-1307), who was known by the nickname of Dr Foster. (The doctor part perhaps because he was a learned man; the origins of Foster are unknown.) On a visit to Gloucester during a storm, the King rode his horse through what appeared to be a shallow puddle, but it turned out to be a deep ditch. Both King and horse became trapped in the mud and had to be hauled out - to Edward's fury and embarrassment.

The King, also known as 'Edward the Lawgiver' and responsible for much of the Tower of London , vowed never to return to Gloucester - and he remained true to his word. Baa Baa Black Sheep And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane. The final line of this rhyme until 1765 went like this: 'And none for the little boy who cries down the lane.' It is thought it was changed to make it more pleasant for young ears. But the original version is at the heart of the meaning of the rhyme, which, unsurprisingly enough, is all about sheep. Sheep have always been important to the rural economy, and by 1260, some flocks consisted of as many as 8,000 animals, tended by a dozen full-time shepherds. When Edward I returned from his crusading in 1272, he imposed new taxes on wool to fund his military campaigns. It was this wool tax that is said to be the basis of the rhyme.

One-third of the price of each sack must go to the Kking (the master); one-third to the Church or the monasteries (the dame); and none to the actual shepherd (the little boy who cries down the lane). Rather than being a gentle song about sharing things out fairly, it's a bitter reflection on how brutal life was for the working classes. Georgie Porgie Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry; When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away. There is a sinister undertone to this nursery rhyme, but what - and who - is it all about? One possible candidate for Georgie Porgie is the Prince Regent George IV. Immensely fat (Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie), his corset-wearing was the source of constant ridicule and satirical cartoons. By 1797, his weight had reached 171/2 stone and by 1824 his corsets were being made for a waist of 50 inches. George had a reputation for lechery, and his chequered love life involved several mistresses, illegitimate children and even bigamy.

He had a wife, Caroline of Brunswick, whom he detested so much he banned her from his coronation, and a mistress, Maria Anne Fitzherbert (a Roman Catholic and a commoner whom he would never be allowed to marry) - and he managed to make both women miserable (Kissed the girls and made them cry). In addition, although George loved watching prize-fighting ( bareknuckle boxing, which was illegal), his own physical and emotional cowardice was legendary. This is illustrated by a story of the most infamous prize-fight of the day, when one contestant died of his injuries. George was present, but when the fighter died, the Prince - terrified of being implicated - ran away (when the boys come out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away). Sing a Song of Sixpence Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing; Oh, wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house counting out his money, The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose. There are a number of stories about this rhyme, but my favourite centres on a pirate called Blackbeard (c.1680-1718), king of the pirates, who operated around the Caribbean. Before long, several nations had put a price on his head. As a result, he kept a low profile when recruiting new crews. Thus Sing A Song Of Sixpence was a coded message relating to the decent wage on offer. He also offered seamen a pocket full of rye whisky - a leather pouch holding about a litre of grog - which would have been a big incentive. Blackbeard lured target vessels close by pretending his own was in distress. Little did the sailors realise that 24 of his finest pirates would be lying in wait (four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie) when they came to help. When they drew alongside, Blackbeard's men would spring into action, usually with fearsome screams and shouts (when the pie was opened the birds began to sing). 'The king was in his counting house, counting out his money' obviously refers to the pirate king himself.

A slang word for desirable ships, laden with treasure, was 'maid', while the waters around the Caribbean were referred to as 'the garden' - hence 'the maid was in the garden'. 'When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose' probably refers to Blackbeard's men - his 'birds' - who were always ready to launch a surprise attack on a ship to 'peck off her nose' (to grab all the treasure) before the crew realised what was happening. Adapted by Deborah Collcutt from Pop Goes The Weasel: The Secret Meanings Of Nursery Rhymes by Albert Jack, published by Penguin on August 28 at £12.99 Albert Jack 2008. Pop Goes the Weasel | Nursery Rhymes & Kids' Songs | BusSongs.com Pop Goes the Weasel All around the cobbler's bench, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought't was all in fun, Pop! goes the weasel. A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle. That's the way the money goes, Pop! goes the weasel.

This song was originally posted at: Link to this song from your website or blog: <a href="">Pop Goes the Weasel Lyrics on BusSongs.com</a> Recommendations Information About Pop Goes the Weasel "Pop Goes the Weasel" originated from a jig, but has been sung as a nursery rhyme for many years. The jig can be traced back to seventeenth century England, and could be heard across the Empire as it was spread by the colonists. The original had the monkey going around the cobbler's bench. While the rhyme certainly originated in England there is considerable dispute over the meaning of the lyrics. The verse referencing 'weasels' and 'monkeys' certainly points towards children employed to carry out factory work inside huge industrial loom-machines. The "weasel" may refer to a spinner's weasel, which is a mechanical yarn measuring device made up of a spoked wheel. The original had the monkey going around the cobbler's bench. Some versions also have the monkey chasing the weasel around a mulberry bush. The original theme could possibly be taken from a darkly humorous vignette of the cycle of poverty that existed among workers in the environs of London.

According to another version children would sing this song while lending a helping hand to their mother who would wind the wool into a skein. The wool after it was spun had to be put into skeins. This involved wrapping it on a large spinning type wheel. When the appropriate amount was put on the wheel, the gear called a weasel gear popped out and thus - Pop goes the weasel. The weasel is a square tool used for measuring yards of yarn. It would "pop" every time it passed one yard. You"d wrap yarn around and around the tool, counting the "pops". It was very tedious work. For any further information about the song "Pop Goes the Weasel" take a look at Wikipedia . Alternative Lyrics & Related Songs You can start the first line of with this one All around the chicken coup the monkey chased the weasel the monkey thought it was all in fun pop goes the weasel. This is also an alternative verse for the song Half a pound of tuppenny rice Half a pound of treacle, That's the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel.

Alternative version with the Mulberry Bush all around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel the monkey thought it was all in fun pop goes the weasel. This version is for those who are artistic The painter needs a ladder and brush The artist needs an easel The dancer needs a Fiddler's two Pop goes the weasel. treacle vs molasses | Historic Cookery The annual Essex County (NJ) Historic Holiday House Tour was held this year on December 7 and 8. The public was able to tour assorted historic sites located throughout the County on both days. Naturally, all the properties held under the auspices of the Montclair Historical Society were included in this event. Of course, I was busy greeting the many folks who stopped by the kitchen during their tour of The Israel Crane House. The crowds on Saturday tended to ebb and flow, but they were virtually non-stop on Sunday. It was fantastic! I SO enjoy this program every year, as it gives me an opportunity to chat at length with visitors. We always cover an assortment of topics and have some mighty interesting conversations. HUZZAH! Engaging and enlightening discussions weren’t the only thing that I shared with the guests.

There was a rather wonderful spread of tasty treats for all to enjoy, as well. And this year, the offerings were pretty much the same as in years past. And so the following goodies were set out for guests to enjoy. Shrewsbury Cakes, made in accordance with Amelia Smmons’ receipt in her book American Cookery (1796): Shrewsbury Cake. For our Gingerbread Cakes, below, I followed the receipt in The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy (1747), by Hannah Glasse (1747): Take three Pounds of Flour, one Pound of Sugar, one Pound of Butter, rubbed in very fine, two Ounces of Ginger beat fine, a large Nutmeg grated; then take a Pound of Treakle, a quarter of a Pint of Cream, make them warm together, and make up the Bread stiff, roll it out, and make it up into thin Cakes, cut them out with a Tea-Cup, or a small Glass, or roll them round like Nuts, bake them on Tin Plates in a slack Oven.

I particularly like Glasse’s version, as she calls for using treacle (“Treakle”) and not molasses. Yes, the two are similar, as both are obtained during the sugar refining process, and either one can be used. However, the taste of each is VERY different! And I find that small cakes made with molasses tend to be blander than those with treacle. The latter have a bit of a bite to them (which I like BTW!). If you’re interested in more information on the difference between treacle and molasses, and their respective places in the process of sugar refining, see my previous post HERE . Pounded Cheese was also offered, along with store-bought Water Crackers, which are made by Carr’s, a British company that was founded in 1831. The receipt for the above cheese is from the 1817 cookbook, The Cook’s Oracle, by William Kitchiner, M.D.: Pounded Cheese. So. Treacle. Or Treakle. And treakyll. Tryacle. And so on. Just what is it?

Well, I’ve always been told, first and foremost, that it’s a British term, and then one of the following: “just substitute molasses for it”; or, “it’s the same as molasses.” Now, does that mean they’re similar or that they’re different? In any event, I decided to do a bit of research on the subject. I began by consulting my nearly three-decades-old Webster’s Deluxe Unabridged Dictionary, and found it basically says treacle IS molasses. Definitions in glossaries of several historical cookbooks agree. One or two books devote more space to it, from a few paragraphs to an entire page. Most allude to its use medicinally, its eventual role as a replacement for honey, and its origins in the manufacture of sugar. They remain fairly silent, though, as to whether or not treacle and molasses are the same or different. I then came upon a British website that discusses the origins and the uses of treacle. While admitting that the ingredient is a real “minefield,” it first states that “strictly speaking,” it’s a generic term for any syrup resulting from the refining of sugar cane. It then states: OK. Now I understand. I think!

Both molasses and treacle are by-products of the sugar making process, but there IS a difference, depending on from where within the entire process each particular liquid is acquired. And I gather that molasses results from the first draining, and treacle from a later one. (Yes? No? If anyone has other ideas, please share!) Okay. When all is said and done, who cares? Well, I do. If you recall, I stated previously that I wanted to make a dish that included treacle as an ingredient. Well, by golly, Hannah Glasse’s Ginger-Bread Cakes, from her book The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, fit the bill. Of course, wanting to do justice to her receipt, and to be as historically- accurate as possible, I knew that only genuine, bona-fide treacle would suffice. None of that molasses stuff that we Americans “promiscuously” use as a substitute! The next step was to find treacle, but that part was actually easy. I knew that one of my local supermarkets, oddly enough, stocks it.

Yep, there on a set of shelves at the end of one aisle (otherwise known as the “British section”), in amongst the Marmite and the marmalades, is good ol’ authentic, made-in-Britain treacle. HUZZAH! Incidentally, although they may or may not be interchangeable, the taste of each is, indeed, a bit different. At least, to me. I find treacle to be more bitter than molasses, almost unbearingly so. I’d say molasses is the sweeter of the two. Which makes sense, perhaps, if I’m correct in thinking molasses is extracted first. Of course, treacle still shows up every now and then. As many of you know, Harry Potter likes treacle tarts. And then there’s that beloved childhood nursery rhyme, “Pop Goes the Weasel”: Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle, That’s the way the money goes, Pop! goes the weasel. Pop! Goes The Weasel Lyrics - Unknown 'Round and 'round the cobbler's bench The monkey chased the weasel, The monkey thought 'twas all in fun Pop! Goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread A penny for a needle, That's the way the money goes, Pop! Goes the weasel. A half a pound of tupenny rice, A half a pound of treacle. Mix it up and make it nice, Pop! Goes the weasel. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet To go over everything They say that time's supposed to heal ya But I ain't done much healing Hello, can you hear me I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be When we were younger and free I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet There's such a difference between us And a million miles Hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore Hello, how are you?

It's so typical of me to talk about myself I'm sorry I hope that you're well Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened It's no secret that the both of us Are running out of time So hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore Ooooohh, anymore Hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore Up and down the London road, In and out of the Eagle, That's the way the money goes, Pop! Goes the weasel. I've no time to plead and pine, I've no time to wheedle, Kiss me quick and then I'm gone Pop!

Goes the weasel. Why does the weasel go pop? - the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes Why does the weasel go pop? - the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes Why does the weasel go pop? - the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes Blackleaf #1Oct 9th, 2008 Nursery rhymes, such as "Humpty Dumpty", "Jack and Jill" and "Baa Baa Black Sheep" are enjoyed by children in most English-speaking countries. But did you know that many of them are derived from real-life events in British history? Humpty Dumpty was, in real-life, a powerful cannon used by the Royalists against the Parliamentarians during the English Civil War. "Jack and Jill" is based on a young couple that lived in a village in Somerset in 1697.... Why does the weasel go pop?

- the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes By DEBORAH COLLCUTT Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; All the king's horses and all the king's men Couldn't put Humpty together again The real Humpty Dumpty was not a person but a powerful cannon used by the Royalist forces during the English Civil War of 1642 to 1651. Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle led the King's men and overpowered the Parliament stronghold of Colchester early in 1648. They grimly held on while the Parliamentarians, led by Thomas Fairfax, encircled and besieged the town. The supporters of Charles I almost won the day - all thanks to his doughtiest defender, Humpty Dumpty. In pole position, as it were, on top of the church tower of St Mary-at-the-Walls (Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall) their gunners managed to blast away the attacking Roundhead troops for 11 weeks.

Illlustrations: Kingfisher Eventually, though, the top of the church tower was blown away, sending Humpty Dumpty crashing to the ground, where it buried itself in deep marshland (Humpty Dumpty had a great fall). The king's cavalry (the horses) and the infantry (the men) hurried to retrieve the cannon, but they couldn't put Humpty together again - and without their weapon of mass destruction they were soon overrun by Fairfax and his soldiers. Pop Goes the Weasel Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle. That's the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel. There has been much debate over the years about the meaning of Pop Goes The Weasel. A hugely popular music-hall song, its memorable and seemingly nonsensical lyrics spread like wildfire throughout Victorian London. But is there more to the rhyme than meets the eye? In the 1680s, the poor and immigrants lived outside the walls of the City of London in Spitalfields, Hoxton and Shoreditch and slaved away in London's textile industry, which was based there. Packed with sweatshops, it was also the site of many music halls and theatres.

One theory suggests that Pop Goes The Weasel was an attempt to turn the grim reality of local people's lives into a hit song. In the textile industry, a spinner's weasel was a mechanical thread-measuring device in the shape of a spoked wheel, that accurately measured out yarn by making a popping sound to indicate the correct length had been reached. The mind-numbing and repetitive nature of the work is captured in the final line of each verse, indicating that whatever you were doing, or wherever your mind had wandered to, reality was never far away with the weasel to pop you alert again. Polly Put the Kettle On Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on; We'll all have tea. Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again, Sukey take it off again; They've all gone away. One theory about the origins of this rhyme centres on the life of an unnamed writer in London in the mid-18th century with his young family of two boys and three girls. Supposedly, there were many arguments between the children about who could play in which room of the house.

The girls, keen to be rid of the noisy boys, would often pretend to start a tea party. The youngest, Polly, would reach for the toy kettle as the other girls sang 'Polly put the kettle on'. At this point, the boys would scarper Their father was so enamoured of the girls' cheek that he wrote it all down, set it to music and the rhyme was later published. Jack and Jill Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. Taken at face value, the rhyme doesn't make sense. Why do Jack and Jill go up the hill to fetch water? Water generally runs downhill, so perhaps it's a cover story for something else. A small village in Somerset has laid claim to the origin of the rhyme. The story told in Kilmersdon is that during 1697 the village was home to a young unmarried couple who did a lot of their courting up on a hill, away from the prying eyes of the local gossips. Consequently Jill became pregnant, but just before the baby was born Jack was killed by a rock that fell off the hill and landed on his head.

Only days later, Jill also died in childbirth. It's cheery stuff. The rhyme is today depicted on a series of tablet stones along the path to the hill. Old King Cole Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl And he called for his fiddlers three. Some believe that the rhyme must have been written after the introduction of tobacco to Europe in 1564. But it might go back much further, to the early part of the first millennium, where the pipe was much more likely to have been the double aulos, an ancient reed instrument, and the bowl a type of drum. In addition, the word coel is the Gaelic word for 'music', so could Old King Cole be the 'Old King of Music' - the venerable leader of a band, playing the pipe and drum with his fiddlers three? Or could he have been a real person? We find three candidates dating back to the Roman occupation and three rulers of Colchester - known as the Kings of Cole.

Ride a Cock Horse Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross To see a fine lady upon a white horse; With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes. Some argue that only one historic figure could inspire such a rhyme. Step forward Lady Godiva, England's favourite naked horsewoman. During the 11th century, Leofric, the Earl of Mercia, tried to impose heavy taxes on his countrymen, provoking outrage and near riots. Leofric's wife, Godgifu (changed over time to Godiva), sympathised with the common people and urged her husband to lower the new taxes he had levied. Now, Leofric was obviously a man with a sense of humour because he told his wife he would lower taxes only after she had ridden naked through the streets of Coventry. But he hadn't reckoned upon Godiva's spirit and, much to his surprise, she agreed to the challenge. The delighted people of Coventry, as a show of respect and to spare her blushes, all agreed to stay indoors, close their shutters and face the other way as the lady passed by.

She rode through the streets on her beloved white horse, completely naked apart from her wedding ring (rings on her fingers), and with bells attached to her toes to remind the people of Coventry not to look out of their windows. All the citizens kept their word, except for Tom the tailor, who couldn't help himself and peeped out through the shutters - hence the expression 'Peeping Tom'. According to legend, Tom was then struck blind. Doctor Foster In a shower of rain. He stepped in a puddle Right up to his middle And never went there again One theory runs that the origins of this verse stretch back more than 700 years to Edward I (1239-1307), who was known by the nickname of Dr Foster. (The doctor part perhaps because he was a learned man; the origins of Foster are unknown.) On a visit to Gloucester during a storm, the King rode his horse through what appeared to be a shallow puddle, but it turned out to be a deep ditch. Both King and horse became trapped in the mud and had to be hauled out - to Edward's fury and embarrassment.

The King, also known as 'Edward the Lawgiver' and responsible for much of the Tower of London , vowed never to return to Gloucester - and he remained true to his word. Baa Baa Black Sheep And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane. The final line of this rhyme until 1765 went like this: 'And none for the little boy who cries down the lane.' It is thought it was changed to make it more pleasant for young ears. But the original version is at the heart of the meaning of the rhyme, which, unsurprisingly enough, is all about sheep. Sheep have always been important to the rural economy, and by 1260, some flocks consisted of as many as 8,000 animals, tended by a dozen full-time shepherds. When Edward I returned from his crusading in 1272, he imposed new taxes on wool to fund his military campaigns. It was this wool tax that is said to be the basis of the rhyme.

One-third of the price of each sack must go to the Kking (the master); one-third to the Church or the monasteries (the dame); and none to the actual shepherd (the little boy who cries down the lane). Rather than being a gentle song about sharing things out fairly, it's a bitter reflection on how brutal life was for the working classes. Georgie Porgie Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry; When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away. There is a sinister undertone to this nursery rhyme, but what - and who - is it all about? One possible candidate for Georgie Porgie is the Prince Regent George IV. Immensely fat (Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie), his corset-wearing was the source of constant ridicule and satirical cartoons. By 1797, his weight had reached 171/2 stone and by 1824 his corsets were being made for a waist of 50 inches. George had a reputation for lechery, and his chequered love life involved several mistresses, illegitimate children and even bigamy.

He had a wife, Caroline of Brunswick, whom he detested so much he banned her from his coronation, and a mistress, Maria Anne Fitzherbert (a Roman Catholic and a commoner whom he would never be allowed to marry) - and he managed to make both women miserable (Kissed the girls and made them cry). In addition, although George loved watching prize-fighting ( bareknuckle boxing, which was illegal), his own physical and emotional cowardice was legendary. This is illustrated by a story of the most infamous prize-fight of the day, when one contestant died of his injuries. George was present, but when the fighter died, the Prince - terrified of being implicated - ran away (when the boys come out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away). Sing a Song of Sixpence Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing; Oh, wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house counting out his money, The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose. There are a number of stories about this rhyme, but my favourite centres on a British pirate called Blackbeard (c.1680-171 , king of the pirates, who operated around the Caribbean. Before long, several nations had put a price on his head. As a result, he kept a low profile when recruiting new crews. Thus Sing A Song Of Sixpence was a coded message relating to the decent wage on offer. He also offered seamen a pocket full of rye whisky - a leather pouch holding about a litre of grog - which would have been a big incentive. Blackbeard lured target vessels close by pretending his own was in distress. Little did the sailors realise that 24 of his finest pirates would be lying in wait (four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie) when they came to help. When they drew alongside, Blackbeard's men would spring into action, usually with fearsome screams and shouts (when the pie was opened the birds began to sing). 'The king was in his counting house, counting out his money' obviously refers to the pirate king himself.

A slang word for desirable ships, laden with treasure, was 'maid', while the waters around the Caribbean were referred to as 'the garden' - hence 'the maid was in the garden'. 'When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose' probably refers to Blackbeard's men - his 'birds' - who were always ready to launch a surprise attack on a ship to 'peck off her nose' (to grab all the treasure) before the crew realised what was happening. Adapted by Deborah Collcutt from Pop Goes The Weasel: The Secret Meanings Of Nursery Rhymes by Albert Jack, published by Penguin on August 28 at ï¿½12.99 Albert Jack 2008. To order a copy (p&p free), call 0845 155 0720. dailymail.co.uk Quote: Originally Posted by Brat Interesting! I vaguely remember something about Ring around the Rosie, was actually to do with the black plague. Brat, This is what I've found.

Plague interpretation A popular misinterpretation[3] (external - login to view) connects the poem with the Great Plague of London (external - login to view) in 1665 (external - login to view), or perhaps earlier outbreaks of bubonic plague (external - login to view) in England (external - login to view);[4] (external - login to view) however, there is no evidence that Ring a Ring o' Roses and the plague were connected, until it was proposed in the 20th century.[5] (external - login to view). Regardless, this interpretation has entered into popular culture and has been used elsewhere to make oblique reference to the plague.[6] (external - login to view) (For 'hidden meaning' in other nursery rhymes see Sing a Song of Sixpence (external - login to view), Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary (external - login to view), and Cock Robin (external - login to view).) The Opies note the meaning ascribed to the lines by those that link it to the plague.[7] (external - login to view).

This plague link seems to originate with the movement for finding origins of folk-songs, which was popular in the early 20th century. According to this interpretation, the first line evokes the round red rash (external - login to view) that would break out on the skin of plague victims. The second line's "pocket full of posies (external - login to view)" would have been a pocket in the garment of a victim filled with something fragrant, such as flowers (external - login to view) that aimed to conceal the smell from the sores and the dying people. Alternatively it referred to the common belief that fresh-smelling flowers, nosegays (external - login to view), and pomanders (external - login to view) would purify the air around them thus warding off disease as was believed from the miasma theory of disease (external - login to view). A third possibility includes the idea that "posies" are derived from an Old English (external - login to view) word for pus, in which case the pocket would be referring to the swelling sore. Finally: "atishoo, atishoo," the sneezing before "we all fall down", the eventual succumbing to death.

European and 19th century versions of the rhyme suggest that this 'fall' was not a literal falling down, but a curtsy (external - login to view) or other form of bending movement that was common in other dramatic singing games.[8] (external - login to view) Moreover, due to the wide variety of versions sharing the same dance and the same tune, the Opies and others since conclude that the tune and the dance-game form the core of 'Ring a Ring o'Roses', rather than the words that are popular today. Before 1898 there appeared to be no English-language standardisation of the words, and Lady Gomme[9] (external - login to view) collected 12 versions of the game, only one of which is similar to the ones that are conjecturally linked to the plague.

The plague interpretation is generally considered by modern folklorists to be completely baseless.[10] (external - login to view) It is first cited in 1951 by Peter Opie (external - login to view) and Iona Opie (external - login to view).[11] (external - login to view) It thus forms an important reference for 20th and 21st century culture, but has never been authentically linked to any early version of the rhyme, and the evidence points strongly against it. scratch Re: Why does the weasel go pop? - the secret meaning of our best-loved nursery rhymes Oct 12th, 2008 Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross is a nursery rhyme (external - login to view) connected with the English (external - login to view) town Banbury (external - login to view).

The nursery rhyme was first seen in print in 1784, however it was probably known well before then.[citation needed] William Wallace Denslow (external - login to view)'s illustrations, 1901 The old lady on her white horse, according to Denslow[1] (external - login to view) Rhyme Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross. To see a fine lady upon a white horse. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes. She shall have music wherever she goes. Intepretation 'Pop goes the weasel' - the meaning and origin of this phrase Pop goes the weasel The name of the nursery rhyme and song. Origin Like most nursery rhymes, this has some very odd imagery, which has led to much debate as to the meaning and origin of this rhyme. The origin is perhaps the easier of the two. The earliest known published version is as the title of a dance tune. A version of the tune was published in the USA in 1850 - Pop goes the Weasel for Fun and Frolic. The text accompanying the article calls it "an old English dance lately revived".

References in US newspapers soon afterwards call it "the latest English dance", so it's reasonable to believe it originated in Britain. "Pop goes the weasel" is a simple tune and there are several English/Irish/Scottish country dances that are similar. There's no doubt that Pop goes the Weasel was a dance, popular in England in the 1850s. In 1853, The Times included a piece describing various dances that were in vogue at the time: "La Napolienne, Pop goes the Weasel, and La Tempête... the original music of the above three celebrated dances." The dance was popular enough in early 1853 for a Mr. Moutrie, in the fashionable location of Bath, to have considered it worthwhile to place an advertisement in the Bath Chronicle, offering "instruction the the highly fashionable dances" of 'Pop Goes The Weasel', 'La Tempete' and 'Coulson Quadrille'. A newspaper advertisement by Boosey and Sons in 1854 suggests that Queen Victoria was influential in the popularity of the dance: "The new country dance 'Pop goes the weasel', introduced by her Majesty Queen Victoria." The dance didn't have lyrics as such.

It was a jig and "pop goes the weasel" was shouted out at significant points to accentuate the dance. There's no real evidence to suggest that 'Pop goes the weasel' was anything other than the nonsense name of a dance or that the meaning of 'pop' and 'weasel' merit any further investigation. People do like to speculate though so here's the most commonly repeated 'explanation' of the meaning of the phrase, that is, that it derives from the meaning of the well-known nursery rhyme. Rhymes of this sort are repeated word of mouth and it's entirely plausible that it existed in oral form as a children's rhyme for many years before 1850. This 'Chinese whispers' repetition is also the reason for the many variations on the rhyme. Whatever version is picked as the original, it isn't easy to determine the meaning of the words. The version most commonly used in England goes like this: Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle. That’s the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel. All around the cobblers bench the monkey chased the people; The donkey thought ’twas all in fun, pop goes the weasel.

Some of the US versions of the rhyme are significantly different and may have an entirely different source, but using the same tune. It could be that 'money', 'monkey' and 'donkey' that appear in many of the versions are mishearings of the same word. The important words are obviously 'pop' and 'weasel'. The phrase soon gained hold, in the US especially, although it didn't have a specific or fixed meaning; it appears to have been used just to indicate a sense of occasion - something like 'just like that'. There's an example of that in a newspaper advertisement for groceries from The Hudson North Star newspaper, April 1856 (including 2000 lbs of Extra Family Butter, whatever that is): "All Selling Cheap. To Close Out Within Sixty Days Or Pop Goes The Weasel" Of the different meanings of the word weasel, the most commonly used today is as the name of the small carnivorous mammal. Weasels do pop their heads up when disturbed and it is quite plausible that this was the source of the name of the dance. 'Popping' is a slang term for pawning, that is, depositing articles with a pawnbroker in return for money.

Weasel may be a corruption of whistle - in cockney rhyming slang 'whistle and flute' that is, suit. It could also be from another example of CRS, that is, 'weasel and stoat' -> coat. The Eagle was a London pub, near the City Road, and a later Eagle pub still exists on the site. The lyrics of the rhyme - Up and down the City Road, in and out of The Eagle, that's the way the money goes, pop goes the weasel describe spending all your money on drink in the pub and subsequently pawning your suit to raise some more. The pawning and popping explanation seem to fit the meaning of the song and the rest of the lyrics (of the English version at least), so many like to believe it is the origin. For that even to be considered there would need to be a citation that pre-dates 1853 and there's no sign of that at present. Just for completeness, there's also a theory that the weasel refers to a weaver's shuttle, which makes a popping sound when the loom is in use. Again, this is mere speculation and there's no supporting evidence for it.

World Wide Words: Pop goes the weasel Random page Pop goes the weasel Q From Nigel Neve in the UK: Having a little rug rat, I am now at that stage where I find myself revising my knowledge of nursery rhymes. The one at the top of my mind currently is Pop Goes the Weasel. Most people remember the first two verses but there are three more. Can you help explain them? A This is one version of the rhyme: Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle. That’s the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel. Up and down the City road, In and out the Eagle, That’s the way the money goes, Pop goes the weasel. Every night when I go out the monkey’s on the table. Take a stick and knock it off Pop goes the weasel. A penny for a ball of thread Another for a needle, That’s the way the money goes, pop goes the weasel. All around the cobblers bench the monkey chased the people; The donkey thought ’twas all in fun, pop goes the weasel.

Before anybody rushes to put fingers to keyboard, let me say that this is by no means the only version of the lyric. There are several others, especially from the United States. But this is the usual British version, a famous catchy rhyme (or at least, as you say, the first two verses are). The earliest reference I can find to music with this name actually comes from the United States, from sheet music entitled “Pop goes the Weasel for Fun and Frolic”, published in 1850 by Messrs Miller and Beacham of Baltimore. Another from three years later refers to “the latest English dance” and also “an old English Dance lately revived”, so it seems to have been imported from Britain. None of these early versions had any lyrics apart from a repeated “Pop goes the weasel”, the catch line of the dance, which was sung or shouted by the dancers as one pair of them darted under the arms of the others. Several references in books and magazines suggest that the tune soon became extremely well known, and that pop goes the weasel became a catchphrase, as it later did in Britain.

There have been suggestions that the phrase was intended to be ribald or erotic, though the explanations I’ve seen are somewhat fanciful. Following first publication of this article, David Joyce wrote that: “The tune is a version of that used for the country dance, The Haymakers, which has the same form as Strip the Willow, and Bab at the Bowster (a couple hold hands, forming a bridge, which the other couples have to pass under). The tune was published in Gow’s Repository, issued in four volumes between 1799 and 1820. Thus the tune was around at least half a century before the American publication of Pop Goes The Weasel, but is certainly very much older. (It is similar to the tune used for Humpty Dumpty, and not far removed from Lilliebulero and Rock A-bye Baby, all jigs traceable back to the seventeenth century.)” The first British mention of the phrase pop goes the weasel dates from an advertisement by Boosey and Sons of 1854 which described “the new country dance ‘Pop goes the weasel’, introduced by her Majesty Queen Victoria” (a puff to be taken with a large pinch of salt, we may assume).

It would seem from the dates that the title was taken from the American publication of 1850. Talking of Queen Victoria, I found these words attached to the tune in the March 1860 issue of the Southern Literary Messenger of Richmond, Virginia: Queen Victoria’s very sick, Prince Albert’s got the measles. The children have the whooping cough, And pop! Goes the weasel. Her Majesty would not have been amused. Your version was a British music-hall song of the latter part of the Victorian period (quite when I haven’t been able to discover); it is highly probable that the words were composed to the tune of the earlier dance because everyone on both sides of the Atlantic seems to have the same one, even if the words are different. Some of the references are now quite opaque, but we can take a fair shot at a few. In the second verse, the City Road was — still is — a well-known street in London, more than a mile long.

The Eagle was a famous public house and music hall, which lay near the east end of the road on the corner of Shepherdess Walk; this had started its life as a tea-garden, but was turned into a music hall in 1825 (one of the very first); it ended its days as a Salvation Army centre and was pulled down in 1901. However, it was replaced by another pub, which still exists under the same name. The City Road had a pawnbroker’s shop near its west end and to pop was a well-known phrase at the time for pawning something. So the second verse says that visiting the Eagle causes one’s money to vanish, necessitating a trip up the City Road to Uncle to raise some cash. But what was the weasel that was being pawned? Nobody is sure. Some suggest it was a domestic or tailor’s flat-iron, a small item easy to carry. My own guess is that it’s rhyming slang: weasel and stoat = coat. Either way, it seems to have been a punning reinterpretation of the catch line from the older dance.

The first verse just refers to a couple of domestic food items; the fourth to sewing or tailors’ requisites. The third introduces the monkey, one sense of that word being a nineteenth-century term for a drinking vessel in a public house, which makes sense in context. (It may derive from an older phrase, to suck the monkey, to drink from a bottle, which was also used by dock workers in London for illicitly drinking brandy from a cask by inserting a straw through the bung.) A stick was a shot of spirits, such as rum or brandy; to knock it off was to knock it back, or drink it. (There have been many other slang meanings of monkey, some extremely rude, of which the most famous is perhaps that for £500 or $500; from context, this is unlikely to be the meaning meant!) The reference to the monkey in the fifth verse stumps me; in this case it seems to be a real beast. It could be one belonging to an organ-grinder, an itinerant musician who played a small portable organ, of whom there were many at this period. But I suspect there are topical or slang references in there that are now lost.

Share this page Half a Pound of Twopenny Rice - English Children's Songs - England - Mama Lisa's World: Children's Songs and Rhymes from Around the World Half a Pound of Twopenny Rice This is a British version of Pop Goes the Weasel. Many versions of this song exist. It dates back to the 1850's and was an old English dance (from about 1853) with the line "Pop Goes the Weasel". Does the song mean anything? There are many possible theories! Half a Pound of Twopenny Rice Nursery Rhyme Half a pound of twopenny rice, Half a pound of treacle, That's the way the money goes Pop! goes the weasel. Up and down the City Road In and out the Eagle That's the way the money goes Pop! goes the weasel. Half a Pound of Twopenny Rice Nursery Rhyme Half a pound of twopenny rice, Half a pound of treacle, That's the way the money goes Pop! goes the weasel. Up and down the City Road In and out the Eagle That's the way the money goes Pop! goes the weasel. Notes Alan Bowman wrote: "What does it mean?

The rice and treacle relate to the week's shopping (twopenny or tupenny rice) was rice that cost two pence per pound and in order to pay for it poor people would pawn (pop) father's best suit (whistle [weasel] and flute = suit in Cockney rhyming slang). They would then redeem the pawn on Saturday when father got paid so that it was available for him to go to church on Sunday. The verse relating to the eagle refers to the Eagle public house on City Road and by the time a few drinks had been imbibed in that hostelry, there wouldn't be much money left…" *** Here's what I found about it in Notes and Queries (1905) by Oxford University Press: "'Pop Goes The Weasel' - This phrase certainly refers to a purse made of weasel-skin, which opened and closed with a snap. The 'popping of the weasel' in the song (I believe a sort of music-hall ditty of the fifties) is the opening of the purse, and consequent spending of money, as the context shows. "Bang went saxpence" is a verbal, not a real, parallel.

The following is all I can contribute. About 1857-8 I often heard scraps of the song sung, and the purse explanation was current and accepted naturally enough in our family, which possessed a weasel-skin purse. The head and two fore-paws came together, and were fastened with a small gold clasp. I remember two stanzas: Up and down the City Road, In and out the Eagle, That's the way the money goes- Pop goes the weasel. Every night when I come home Supper's on the table; That's the way, &c. In 1896-7 I found that my children had been taught by a nursemaid other stanzas, as follows : Half a pound of tuppenny rice, Half a pound of treacle, Mix it up and make it nice- Pop goes the weasel. Every night when I come home The monkey's on the table; Take a broom and knock him off, &c. This was crooned to a tune which may have been like the original tune or not, but, as neither nurse nor children had any "ear," was not reducible, when challenged, to any definite notation.

[This first part in Notes and Queries was by H. K. St. J. S.] [2nd part in Notes and Queries] My view of the reference in the above is as follows. I am afraid I cannot give my authority, it is so long since I read or heard it; but I supposed it was generally known and agreed upon. "Weasel, I believe, is (or was) the technical or slang name for a narrow iron implement which is used by tailors in cutting out their cloth, and without which it is impossible to carry on their trade. A certain tailor, residing, presumably, in the vicinity of Islington, was in the habit of travelling with too great frequency 'up and down the City Road' for the purpose of going 'in and out' a certain public-house entitled the 'Eagle.' His object in doing so is implied, but not expressly stated.

In any case, 'that's the way the money goes,' and to such an extent does the said 'money go' that he is ultimately reduced to the dire necessity of 'popping' (i.e., pawning) his 'weasel.' This is clearly his last resource, as without his 'weasel' he is unable to earn his living, so that the poem evidently represents a man reduced to the last extremity, and comprises a somewhat laconic, but impressive sermon on the evils of drink. I must have overlooked the former question on the subject, or I might have answered it then. I was not aware that there was any doubt on the subject. J. Fostek Palmer." *** Here's a similar rhyme that I found in A History of Nursery Rhymes (1899) by Percy B. Green: Half a pound of twopenny rice, Half a pound of treacle, Stir it up and make it nice, Pop goes the weasel.

Question: How much treacle was there in the nursery rhyme "Pop! Goes the Weasel"?
Answer: Half a pound