I used this space previously to document my unfamiliarity with nursery rhymes and my compensatory creations. I recently decided that I needed to do some research and teaching so my kid wouldn’t be mocked by his daycare colleagues when he turned up singing of monkeys eating fruit with a kid called Seamus. When I started the arduous task of Googling “nursery rhymes,” I assumed that my amateur lyrics were shameful in comparison to the sweet words that have lulled children to sleep for centuries. I really overestimated the bards of yesteryear.
Let’s examine what are perhaps the two most popular nursery rhymes of all time.
Rock-a-Bye-Baby
Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all
Those are soothing words sung to a baby? As if the murderous tale isn’t bad enough, left completely unexplained are the engineering feat that got the cradle to the treetop in the first place and why it was then left unattended. Why do parents continue to torment their children with this rubbish?
Hush Little Baby
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word.
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
Really? You’re trying to get your child to calm down and you come out of the gate with a promise to buy her a bird? And one that is most certainly unknown to the child, unless she received a bird spotting kit for her three-month birthday.
And if that mockingbird won’t sing,
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring
Wow, Papa, way to up the ante! You go from an annoying worm eater to diamonds. I doubt, however, that your little girl is yet shallow enough to be pacified by a rare gem, no matter how much blood was let to procure it.
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass
Now how would a diamond turn to brass? And to compensate for a botched attempt at buying a diamond, you’re buying the poor kid a mirror? I thought we were trading up here.
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Papa’s gonna buy you a billy goat
Right, we’ve lost all touch with reality here. What is an infant going to do with a billy goat? You can’t very well put it in the crib to distract her from her mad crying.
And if that billy goat won’t pull,
Papa’s gonna buy you a cart and bull
Now we’ve just given up trying to make sense.
And if that cart and bull turn over,
Papa’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover
Papa, we probably should have started with the dog. I can’t come up with a single reason that a cart and bull would mollify your child. I’m sure the specter of watching them turn over has permanently damaged your little girl. I know it’s early in the child’s life, but you should probably go ahead and accept that you’ll disappoint her so often that she’ll both loathe and pity you before her seventh birthday.
And if that dog named Rover won’t bark
Papa’s gonna buy you a horse and cart
OK, Papa, where are we buying all of this defective merchandise? Did you check that even one thing worked properly before you bought it? Your hookup for this stuff clearly isn’t reliable. Good job, also, going back to the large animal pulling a cart. If your sweet little Angel is still having nightmares from watching the bull and cart topple, this latest purchase couldn’t possibly push her over the edge. I don’t see this as a calming gesture.
And if that horse and cart fall down,
You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.
As feared, we’ve re-introduced the trauma of watching a large animal meet its demise in your child’s room–perhaps next to her changing table. The last line troubles me. It appears as though you’re blaming all of your poor purchase decisions on your baby, but then re-assuring her that it’s OK, because you still love her. Papa, you’re an awful person; I’m glad this song is over.
