“Out of the mouths of babes,” goes the saying, a phrase which by modern interpretation means that children are often smarter than we give them credit for. Smarter and—even if they don’t know it—much more honest.
Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing is a matter of perspective.
Many of the nursery rhymes we grew up with and teach our kids today also have ever-evolving interpretations, not all of which are particularly cheerful.
Take, for instance, the quintessential “Oh my god, why do we let kids sing this?” rhyme: “Ring Around the Rosie.”
Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down!
Aside from the fact that some iterations of the game have children throwing themselves dramatically to the ground upon singing the last line, this version of the nursery rhyme carries some potentially awful implications, believed by some to be referencing the bubonic plague: a ring of roses equates to a rash, posies reference the scents and flowers carried as a deterrent for the illness, and the falling down at the end is a representation of death.
Or is it?
Professional folklorists will point out that this version of the song cropped up long after the plague had passed and probably wasn’t in reference to it at all. But as readers and writers we have to ask: does that matter? What weight does history hold to a child singing a song? If it’s ingrained in a whole culture of kids that this is a song about death, then at the end of the day, isn’t that what it becomes?
Out of the mouths of babes, indeed!
Here’s one that makes no secret of its scary implications:
Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home.
Your house is on fire, and your children are gone.
All except one, and her name is Ann,
And she hid under the baking pan.
Once again, the jury is out on what exactly this rhyme is about. It could be a reference to the religious persecution of Catholics in the 16th century, as ladybugs are sometimes used as a reference to Mary, mother of Jesus. It could also be a much more innocuous rhyme spoken by farmers to their pest-eating friends, the ladybugs, just before the dregs of a crop are burnt to encourage new growth in the next season. Or it could be a spell cast to send someone home, away from unknown danger, back to family.
In any case, the imagery isn’t quite what you’d imagine a group of kids singing cheerfully about on a summer day, is it?
Think back to your own childhood: What other rhymes come to mind that could have terrifying connotations?
“This Little Piggy”? Consider what “went to market” might mean for a pig.
“Baa, Baa, Black Sheep”? Your younger self might never have guessed that the wool going to the master and dame were tax payments.
“London Bridge is Falling Down”? Seems self-explanatory, and this one even comes with a game that implies its own deaths, as the “bridge” of hands “falls” on whomever is under them when the rhyme ends.
Here’s another from my childhood that’s stuck with me out of pure catchiness:
Cinderella, dressed in yella
Went upstairs to kiss her fella.
By mistake, she kissed a snake!
How many doctors did it take?
One, two, three, four…
The last bit requires jumping over the rope as many times as you can while everyone around you watches and counts. Meaning if you’re a really good rope-jumper, it could take tens of doctors to keep poor Cindy around!
This one doesn’t have a long historical background to follow into the dark—even the classic Cinderella tale didn’t have much to do with snakes, just people cutting off bits of their own feet and dancing until they died. You know, stories for kids. But that makes this jumping rhyme almost worse, doesn’t it? Sure, the words were probably chosen because they rhymed and fit a rhythm, but why did they have to be about a beloved fairytale character being bitten by snakes?
What are we meant to take away from that?
There are many who believe that fictional stories, rhymes, and songs are good ways for children to experience and learn from danger and heartbreak in a safe environment, one they know they can come back from when they need to feel safe and whole again. Even the scariest stories can impart lessons to be carried forth into adulthood.
In this strange case, perhaps a game of jump rope might just make some young players a little more wary of snakes—literal or metaphorical—hiding in place of their own prince charming.
Finally, consider this little riddle:
Little Nanny Etticoat
In a white petticoat
And a red nose.
The longer she stands
The shorter she grows!
Can you guess who this attentive nanny is? Maybe it will help to imagine her with fiery red hair, her white dress pooling beneath her as she slumps, tired from a day of work.
Little Nanny Etticoat is a candle.
The original nightlight and the last vigil of young children, back before screens acted as our go-to babysitters. Losing height and losing light as the night wears on. A protection against the dark—with her own tinge of danger, the threat of fire uncontrolled.
A nanny, as a stand-in for a parent, should be someone a child can trust. And in turn, the nanny should be able to trust that their charge is willing to be guided, protected, and taught.
But we all know children aren’t always the most willing students.
This collection carries the weight of these spooky songs, these riddles and rhymes with their mysterious meanings and hidden histories, then sets that weight squarely upon the shoulders of the unsuspecting nannies. Will they be able to bear the burden of childhood secrets and pranks beyond explanation? Or will they topple like candles left lit too long?
From the mouths of babes comes wisdom, truth . . . and often more than a little horror.
Sleep well.
Meg Dailey