the lions breed. They breeds every seven years, and when the lions breed the young pigs be still-born.”
Childhood has its own Folk-lore all England over—its traditional beliefs and practices, couched most commonly in verses which attune the infant ear, and charm the infant imagination. The young northern is peculiarly favoured in these respects. Does he want to make a butterfly alight, he has only to repeat the following lines—
Le, la, let,
Ma bonnie pet;
and, if only he say them often enough, the charm never fails. Does rain threaten to spoil a holiday, let him chant out—
Rain, rain, go away,
Come another summer’s day;
Rain, rain, pour down,
And come no more to our town;
or—
Rain, rain go away,
And come again on washing day;
or, more quaintly yet—
Rain, rain, go to Spain;
Fair weather come again:
and, sooner or later, the rain will depart. If there be a rainbow the juvenile devotee must look at it all the time. The Sunderland version runs thus—
Rain, rain, pour down
Not a drop in our town,
But a pint and a gill
All a-back of Building Hill.
Such rhymes are in use, I believe, in every nursery in England; but the following verse, though said to be popular in Berwickshire, is unknown elsewhere:
Rainbow, rainbow, haud awa’ hame,
A’ yer bairns are dead but ane,
And it lies sick at yon grey stane,
And will be dead ere you win hame.
Gang owre the Drumaw and yont the lea,
And down by the side o’ yonder sea;
Yonr bairn lies greeting like to dee,
And the big teardrop is in his e’e.
