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Cavan
childrens games and rhymes of the 1940s
BY
BRENDAN MURRAY
Most
of the games children play and rhymes they sing are inherited
from previous generations of children. Parents probably
played the same games and sung the same songs when they
were young, but the process of time gradually steals them
from their adult minds. The repertoire of games and rhymes
of each new generation increases or decreases with the circumstances
of the time, whether dire, economic or emergency. Most of
the games and rhymes contrived by children imitate activities
of adults fashioned by the vivid imagination of youngsters
themselves, writes Brendan Murray.
Observe the marching and drilling of our brave defenders
A particular time when young boys invented a game was the
Emergency period of the 1940s. Young lads discerningly watched
the initial drilling and marching of local brigades of the
LDF, LSF and Red Cross, all neatly clad in immaculate new
uniforms and shiny boots. The loud synchronised sound of
marching feet and the instant obeying of orders snapped
out by drill sergeants fascinated youngsters.
On the first important occasion when the proud marching
tread of the combined brigades came up to the town’s
main street and the orders, “eyes right; sálute”
were yelled out to honour an important platform party (local
dignitaries and army officers seated on the back of a lorry),
the whole procedure was noted by youngsters as was the acknowledgement
of the platform party standing stiffly to attention, and
the army officers holding their return salute for three
or four minutes until the brigade(s) had passed. Eventually,
when the action ended and onlookers were dispersing, word
was passed around the boys present to assemble later that
day at the town pump for drilling and marching practice
and to bring along as many recruits as could be mustered
and to wear appropriate uniform items, such as caps and
boots.
Fall in and follow us.
We assembled at 3pm. Older boys had recruited their smaller
brothers, and like everyone else, their borrowed boots and
symbolic headgear indicated their ardent desire to be part
and parcel of this important assemblage. Most lads had discreetly
borrowed their mothers’ business envelope shaped caps.
These caps, in assorted colours, were the height of ladies
fashion and coincidently were exactly the same shape as
the headgear worn by the L.S.F. and army privates. Some
lads had the caps balanced on a shoulder as they awaited
the order to ‘fall in’ ; they had seen some L.S.F.
men do this while relaxing before drilling. A few of the
bigger boys were self appointed officers as signified by
their Sam Brown belts hastily made from a combination of
assorted belts and ropes and arm stripes (pieces of borrowed
red ribbon). Orders were given to “fall in” “form
a straight line,” and “form twos”.
Imitating the men of the F.C.A. and L.S.F., we obeyed one
way or another. Our self appointed sergeant major yelled
out “quick march” and out the main road we proudly
strode, officers and taller lads in the van, small lads
trudging along at the rear. The order “change step”
was shouted at those out of step; they quickly did little
skips to get in step with the majority; the small lads of
the “rear guard” did little skips whether or not
they were out of step. As we marched close to the hedge
of a field with a long road frontage, one of our multi stripped
“officers” slipped through a hole in the hedge;
a few months later, as we approached the gate to the field
about 50yds ahead, the orders “eyes right, salute”
were given, and as we obeyed we saw him, in all his glory,
standing stiffly to attention in the middle of the gateway,
cane (stick) under his left armpit, holding his returning
salute until our proud brigade had marched past and the
order “eyes straight ahead” was given.
We were knackered that evening when we returned to our assembly
point. Before “falling out” we were ordered to
assemble again on the following Sunday for more Drilling.
As we plodded homeward we observed a group of young girls
marching on the pavement, all carrying white shoeboxes marked
with big red crosses. “That’s the Red Cross,”
said out smallest lad. “We know” remarked his
big brother, “they might be handy if any of us men
get injured.”
Games of Marbles
The jargon and gamesmanship peculiar to the game of marbles,
shouted by county Cavan boys playing the game in the 1940s
were -
“Heights and everything.”
“Nuckledown, barr anything.”
“I said it first.”
“You did not; lets start the game again then.”
“Not fair, I was going down 9 and you were only coming
up 6.”
“You were flinching; okay, we’ll start again and
no flinching this time, right?”
“Right, I’ll go first.”
“You will not, we’ll toss for who goes first.”
“Okay, we’ll toss; have you a penny?”
“No, I haven’t; have you?”
“No, I haven’t; we can’t toss so.”
“Best of two games then; I’ll go first in the
first game; you go first in the second?”
“Okay.”
The game was played by two players, each flicking with his
thumb his own marble in turn at three small holes (dug out
of the tarmacadam) about three yards apart. Starting at
the first hole, a player had to flick his marble into each
hole in turn. The location of the holes was always close
to the edge of a pavement - an appropriate location out
of the holes was always close to the edge of a pavement
- an appropriate location out of the way of passers bye.
Also, the pavement edge served as a convenient seat for
pals observing a game and waiting their turn to challenge
the winner. If a player’s marble ended up a few inches
from a hole, his opponent could strike it with his marble
and knock it yards away depending on the force of the strike
and the weight of the marbles. The marbles were usually
made of glass; a steel ball bearing (difficult to acquire)
was quite acceptable and was a great advantage when striking
a glass marble. Players using them usually produced them
dramatically from their pockets at the last second before
a game commenced, like fast gunmen of the Wild West.
Paper Ball
On quiet Sunday evenings when few adults were ambulating
on the streets and sidewalks, a game of ball, was frequently
played by young boys, the field of battle being an area
of pavement not often frequented by adult strollers; the
ball was usually made on the spot from old newspapers tied
with string. Two older boys from those present selected
the opposing sides; a coin was tossed for “fist pick;
“ subsequently choices alternating between each selector.
It was very disappointing for a lad to be selected last
as it indicated he was bottom in the skills hierarchy of
those present. Only hand passing of the ball was allowed,
no kicking and no goalies. Two coats at opposite ends of
the pavement served as goalposts. The first team to score
an agreed number of goals were the winners. A few games
would be played depending on time; teams selected as before,
the caption of the losing team in the previous game having
first choice. A lad selected last for a prior game, and
who scored or played well in that game, moved up the selection
ladder for the next game, his pride and self esteem fully
restored.
The Gospel according to Luke 16: 19-31
The following are some verses from the Rich man/Poor man
Gospel story converted by Cavan children into digestible
verse and sung by the children of the 1940’s to an
air, best described as a cross between plain chant and a
jig. You will recall that the poor man begged for scraps
from the rich man’s table and was carried by angels
up to heaven when he died while the rich man was sent down
below.
Rodger Rum
(Parable of the rich man, poor man)
There once was a poor man; he lived in Jerusalem
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum,
Old Rodger Rum, old Rodger Rum
Skiddle-me-inky doodle-um
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum.
The poor man died, he went up straight to heaven-ium
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum,
Went for a booze with the angles at half past eleven-ium
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum.
The rich man died, he went straight down to hell-ium
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum
Old Rodger Rum, old Rodger Rum
Skiddle-me-inky doodle-um
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum.
The rich man called for a whiskey and sod-ium,
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum
But the devil bawled out, shovel on the coal-ium
Glória Allelúia, old Rodger Rum. Edmund, a
small boy, much to the embarrassment of our teacher, sang
this particular song, in all its glory, for the Bishop one
day he called to our school and asked for a volunteer to
sing a hymn for him. The Bishop was delighted and asked
for an encore but the young lad replied that it was the
only song he knew and that he sang it every Christmas Eve
for Santa when he called.
Sadly, the young lad died before the following Christmas
and Santa called no more; he just left the presents for
the lad’s younger brothers when they were asleep. One
day, these small brothers asked their mother why Santa didn’t
visit them any more before they went to bed on Christmas
Eve and she explained that Santa was too sad to call because
Edmund wasn’t there any more to sing “Rodger Rum.”
Taken from Breffni Blue
April 2004
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