More Mother Goose

When I was little, we had a record (you know, an LP, one of those vinyl spinning things that people in general don't listen to any more and that young people know nothing about) of Mother Goose rhymes set to music. I believe one of the main narrators was Sterlign Holloway, but that has nothing to do with anything. The other day, my little sister decided she wanted to listen to some old records, so as I was going through the stack of music, I came across that particular album and decided it might be funny to listen to. So, I put it on. My sister liked it anyway.

Now, if I had my way, we'd scrap all of these CDs and MP3s and every other music-listening media and go back exclusively to vinyl LPs and 45s. There's something about the sound quality, with all of the tiny scratches and bumps that makes it so much more...more...I don't know, real, I guess. However, once we began to listen to that Mother Goose album with its opening theme ("More Mother Goose, More Mother Goose" da da-da da-da da-da da "More Mother Goose") and all of those scratches, big and small, the album quickly became monstrous damnable and wicked irritating.

But it made me wonder, why on earth my siblings and I ever listened to it in the first place. Not to mention, why would any parent, regardless of race, gender, denomination, or ethnicity, would allow children to be exposed to Mother Goose's ear-clawing and often grotesque nursery rhymes.

In fact, I have here beside me a book of nursery rhymes from Mother Goose's archives. Let's look at a few, shall we?

Oh, here's a great one called "The Three Sons":

There was an old woman had three sons,
Jerry and James and John,
Jerry was hanged, James was drowned,
John was lost and never was found;
And there was an end of her three sons,
Jerry and James and John!

That's PG-13 at least, and these are supposed to be nursery rhymes! Oh, I've found another:

"Virginia had a baby,
His name was Tiny Tim,
She put him in the bathtub
to teach him how to swim.
He drank up all the water,
He ate up all the soap,
And he died last night with a bubble in his throat."

Sweet dreams, little baby.

Away Birds Away!

"Away, birds, away!
take a little and leave a little,
And do not come again;
For if you do,
I will shoot you through,
And there will be an end of you."

Dear me, no wonder children are becoming violent. Between Mother Goose and Ritalin shortages, the world is going to be a very unsafe place.

Bandy Legs

"As I was going to sell my eggs
I met a man with bandy legs,
Bandy legs and crooked toes;
I tripped up his heels, and he fell on his nose."

Yes, and since we want our children to be encouraged in this sort of behavior, let's sing it in a round, as well. I'll start it off.

Goosey, Goosey, Gander

"Goosey, goosey, gander,
Whither dost thou wander?
Upstairs and downstairs
And in my lady’s chamber.
There I met an old man
Who wouldn’t say his prayers;
I took him by the left leg,
And threw him down the stairs."

Got to love religious intolerance. Children, make a note of that: if Gramps won't pray, you know what to do with him. Bad hip and all.

Then of course there are some that aren't exactly bad, but they are still completely devoid of any useful information.

Little Jumping Joan

"Here I stand, little Jumping Joan,
When nobody's with me,
I'm always alone."

Duh.

Or how about this one:

The Old Woman under a Hill

"The was an old woman
Lived under a hill;
If she's not gone,
She lives there still."

Gee, thanks, Mother Goose, I'm pretty certain I never would've figured that one out on my own. What are you, German?

I hope you've got the point. If you haven't, there's a lot more where these came from.

Sadly.