Firstly, a tale of animal cruelty for young children who love kittens. "Ding, dong, dell, Pussy’s in the well. Who put her in? Little Johnny Flynn. Who pulled her out? Little Tommy Stout. What a naughty boy was that, To try to drown poor pussy cat, Who never did him any harm, But ate all of the mice in the farmer's barn."
Nursery rhymes, those innocuous little rhymes we learnt at our mother's knee, or our grandmother's, or our aunt's and which for most of us was probably the first book we ever owned (£1.99p - sixpence in my day - from the local newsagents). Such happy little rhymes full of sunshine and cakes. Certainly not the stuff of nightmares... Or are they? (na...na...nahhh).
Great horror writers like Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, H.P. Lovecraft, Dean Koontz, Bram Stoker, and Mary Shelley tend to dominate the horror story stakes (pointed wooden ones mainly), but Mother Goose isn’t too far behind. Yes, that fictional white-haired, little-old loveable lady at the (dark) heart of kiddie poems has got a bit of an evil streak (na...na...nahhh).
Let's take Baa, Baa, Black Sheep (1731). It's generally agreed that “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep” is about the Great Custom, a tax on wool that was introduced in 1275. Mind you, some PC lunatics insist that the use of the colour black and the word “master” proves that there is a negative racial message. The political correctness police called it into question with some schools banning it from being repeated in classrooms, others simply switched out the word “black” for something deemed less offensive (and stupid) like “Baa, Baa Rainbow Sheep” or "Baa, Baa Sheep of Colour Sheep. Horrific.
Remember Goosey Goosey Gander (1784)? It’s hard to believe that any rhyme with “goosey goosey” (after all we all love a good goosing don't we?) in its title could be described as anything but jolly good fun old hockey stick. But it’s actually a tale of religious persecution from the days when Catholic priests had to hide away in holes in the floor to say their Latin-based prayers (a major no-no at the time) even in the privacy of their own homes. In my day the end of the rhyme mentioned an old man “who wouldn’t say his prayers'. So he was taken him by his left leg and they threw him down the stairs.” (bump, bump, bump, bump, crack! Broken neck time folks. Ouch!)
What about Jack and Jill (1765)? Come on, admit it. We've all mucked around with the lyrics to “Jack and Jill”, turning what was seemingly an innocent poem into something a little bit Carry On (ooooh Matron.) Its real meaning isn't quite as innocent as you probably thought. One of the most common theories surrounding the story’s origin is that it’s about France’s Louis XVI and his wife, Marie Antoinette, who were both found guilty of treason and subsequently beheaded (chip, chop, chip, chop the last man's dead. Or is that Oranges and Lemons?). The only problem with that is that those events occurred nearly 30 years after “Jack and Jill” was first written and there were no Tardis type travel machines back then. The more likely possibility is that it’s an account of King Charles I’s attempt to reform the tax on liquid measures. When Parliament rejected his suggestion, he instead made sure that the volume was reduced on half and quarter-pints, known as jacks and gills, respectively (the killjoy king).
London Bridge is Falling Down (1744) is a cracker. Of course, we've all sung Carol's pants (or some other knicker-elastic challenged person) are falling down. But the original song wasn’t much better. Depending on whom you ask, “London Bridge is Falling Down” could be about a 1014 Viking attack, child sacrifice, or the normal deterioration of an old bridge. The most popular theory seems to be the first one - more specifically: the alleged destruction of London Bridge at the hands of Olaf II of Norway in the early 1000s. I have to say though I prefer the child sacrifice thing.
Psychopaths have a place in my heart and Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary (1774) fits that bill perfectly. “Contrary” is an understated way to describe a murderous psychopath. This popular English nursery rhyme (which reads like a script from Gardener's Question Time) is actually a recounting of the homicidal nature of Queen Mary I of England (a.k.a. Bloody Mary) a fierce believer in Catholicism, who executed of hundreds of Protestants. Yes, Silver bells and cockle shells are torture devices. She's also in there at her bloody worst in Three Blind Mice (1805) with the trio in question believed to be a group of Protestant bishops—Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Radley, and The Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer—who (unsuccessfully) conspired to overthrow the queen and were burned at the stake for their heresy (barbecued blind bishop - yum yum).
Yes, all nursery rhymes are wicked. That crooked man? The devil comin' to getcha. Then there's Eeeny Meeny Miny Mo which this day has the replacement word Tiger (and not the noriginal) as it's victim, Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush, a prison rhyme about women prisoners exercising around a mulberry tree in Wakefield prison (it's grim up t'north), Rock-a-Bye Baby a tale of child murder, Ring a Ring of Roses is all about the plague, Humpty Dumpty, Doctor Foster, Mary and Her Little Lamb, Georgie Porgie, Little By Blue, Tom Tom The Piper's Son, all nursery rhyme nightmares waiting to awaken - and just who was that man (the one that wasn't there) upon the stair? Am I seeing things or something? (na...na...nahhh).
So there you go, nursery rhymes, the root of all evil and where Stephen King gets all his best ideas from.
Let's take Baa, Baa, Black Sheep (1731). It's generally agreed that “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep” is about the Great Custom, a tax on wool that was introduced in 1275. Mind you, some PC lunatics insist that the use of the colour black and the word “master” proves that there is a negative racial message. The political correctness police called it into question with some schools banning it from being repeated in classrooms, others simply switched out the word “black” for something deemed less offensive (and stupid) like “Baa, Baa Rainbow Sheep” or "Baa, Baa Sheep of Colour Sheep. Horrific.
Remember Goosey Goosey Gander (1784)? It’s hard to believe that any rhyme with “goosey goosey” (after all we all love a good goosing don't we?) in its title could be described as anything but jolly good fun old hockey stick. But it’s actually a tale of religious persecution from the days when Catholic priests had to hide away in holes in the floor to say their Latin-based prayers (a major no-no at the time) even in the privacy of their own homes. In my day the end of the rhyme mentioned an old man “who wouldn’t say his prayers'. So he was taken him by his left leg and they threw him down the stairs.” (bump, bump, bump, bump, crack! Broken neck time folks. Ouch!)
What about Jack and Jill (1765)? Come on, admit it. We've all mucked around with the lyrics to “Jack and Jill”, turning what was seemingly an innocent poem into something a little bit Carry On (ooooh Matron.) Its real meaning isn't quite as innocent as you probably thought. One of the most common theories surrounding the story’s origin is that it’s about France’s Louis XVI and his wife, Marie Antoinette, who were both found guilty of treason and subsequently beheaded (chip, chop, chip, chop the last man's dead. Or is that Oranges and Lemons?). The only problem with that is that those events occurred nearly 30 years after “Jack and Jill” was first written and there were no Tardis type travel machines back then. The more likely possibility is that it’s an account of King Charles I’s attempt to reform the tax on liquid measures. When Parliament rejected his suggestion, he instead made sure that the volume was reduced on half and quarter-pints, known as jacks and gills, respectively (the killjoy king).
London Bridge is Falling Down (1744) is a cracker. Of course, we've all sung Carol's pants (or some other knicker-elastic challenged person) are falling down. But the original song wasn’t much better. Depending on whom you ask, “London Bridge is Falling Down” could be about a 1014 Viking attack, child sacrifice, or the normal deterioration of an old bridge. The most popular theory seems to be the first one - more specifically: the alleged destruction of London Bridge at the hands of Olaf II of Norway in the early 1000s. I have to say though I prefer the child sacrifice thing.
Psychopaths have a place in my heart and Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary (1774) fits that bill perfectly. “Contrary” is an understated way to describe a murderous psychopath. This popular English nursery rhyme (which reads like a script from Gardener's Question Time) is actually a recounting of the homicidal nature of Queen Mary I of England (a.k.a. Bloody Mary) a fierce believer in Catholicism, who executed of hundreds of Protestants. Yes, Silver bells and cockle shells are torture devices. She's also in there at her bloody worst in Three Blind Mice (1805) with the trio in question believed to be a group of Protestant bishops—Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Radley, and The Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer—who (unsuccessfully) conspired to overthrow the queen and were burned at the stake for their heresy (barbecued blind bishop - yum yum).
Yes, all nursery rhymes are wicked. That crooked man? The devil comin' to getcha. Then there's Eeeny Meeny Miny Mo which this day has the replacement word Tiger (and not the noriginal) as it's victim, Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush, a prison rhyme about women prisoners exercising around a mulberry tree in Wakefield prison (it's grim up t'north), Rock-a-Bye Baby a tale of child murder, Ring a Ring of Roses is all about the plague, Humpty Dumpty, Doctor Foster, Mary and Her Little Lamb, Georgie Porgie, Little By Blue, Tom Tom The Piper's Son, all nursery rhyme nightmares waiting to awaken - and just who was that man (the one that wasn't there) upon the stair? Am I seeing things or something? (na...na...nahhh).
So there you go, nursery rhymes, the root of all evil and where Stephen King gets all his best ideas from.
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