"_Rose and Pink._ Let the young mind make its choice, As young minds chance to think.

Now is the Rose your leader, Or go you with the Pink?

Let the young heart make its choice By laws the young heart knows.

Now is the Pink your leader, Or go you with the Rose?

_Chorus._ Pa.s.s on, oho! Pa.s.s on, aha!

By the gate of Alcala!"

Another favorite is "Golden Ear-rings." Here the Mother, this time a Queen, sits in a chair, supposedly a throne, and close before her, on the floor, sits the youngest daughter; before this one, the next youngest, and so on, in order of age. Two other children, holding a handkerchief by the corners, walk up and down the line, one on one side and one on the other, so pa.s.sing the handkerchief above the heads of the seated princesses. Then ensues the musical dialogue between these two suitors and the Queen.

"'We've come from France, my lady, And Portugal afar.

We've heard of your fair daughters, And very fair they are.'

'Be they fair or no, senores, It's none of your concern, For G.o.d has given me bread for all, And given me hands to earn.'

'Then we depart, proud lady, To find us brides elsewhere.

The daughters of the Moorish king Our wedding rings shall wear.'

'Come back, my sweet senores!

Bear not so high a crest.

You may take my eldest daughter, But leave me all the rest.'"

The dialogue is transferred to one of the suitors and to the princess at the farther end of the line, on whose head the handkerchief now rests.

"'Will you come with me, my Onion?'

'Fie! that's a kitchen smell.'

'Will you come with me, my Rosebud?'

'Ay, gardens please me well.'"

In similar fashion all the daughters are coaxed away until only the youngest remains, but she proves obdurate. They may call her Parsley or Pink; it makes no difference. So the suitors resort to bribes, the last proving irresistible.

"'We'll buy you a French missal.'

'I have a book in Latin.'

'In taffeta we'll dress you.'

'My clothes are all of satin.'

'You shall ride upon a donkey.'

'I ride in coaches here.'

'We'll give you golden ear-rings.'

'Farewell, my mother dear.'"

In some of the many variants of this game, the Queen herself, adequate as she may be to earning her own living, is wooed and won at last.

I have not met with fairy-lore among these children's carols. The only fairy known to Spain appears to be a sort of spiritualistic brownie, who tips over tables and rattles chairs in empty rooms by night. The grown-up men who write of him say he frightens women and children. He can haunt a house as effectually as an old-time ghost, and a _Casa del Duende_ may go begging for other tenants. One poor lady, who went to all the trouble of moving to escape from him, was leaning over the balcony of her new home,--so the story goes,--to see the last cartful of furniture drive up, when a tiny man in scarlet waved a feathered cap to her from the very top of the load and called, "Yes, senora, we are all here. We have moved."

So the childish imagination of Spain, shut out from fairyland, makes friends with the saints in such innocent, familiar way as well might please even Ribera's anchorites. The adventurous small boy about to take a high jump pauses to pray:--

"Saint Magdalene, Don't let me break my thigh!

Oh, Saint Thomas, Help this birdie fly!"

The little girls express decided preferences for one saint over another.

"Old San Anton, What has he done?

Put us in the corner every one.

"San Sebastian Is a nice young man.

He takes us to walk and gives us a fan."

Santa Rita is best at finding lost needles, and San Pantaleon is a humorist.

"San Pantaleon, Are twenty and one Children enough for an hour of fun Slippers of iron Donkey must try on.

Moors with their pages Ride in gold stages.

But if you want a Girdle, Infanta, Cucurucu, 'Bout-face with you!"

At this one of the children dancing in circle whirls around, remaining in her place, but with back turned to the centre and arms crossed over her breast, although her hands still hold those of her nearest neighbors. The rhyme is sung over and over, until all the little figures have thus turned about and the circle is dancing under laughable difficulties.

But the dearest saint of all is San Sereni. Two of the best-known games are under his peculiar blessing. One of these is of the genuine Kindergarten type, the children dancing in a circle through the first two lines of each stanza, but then loosing hands to imitate, in time to the music, the suggested action.

"San Sereni, The holy--holy-hearted!

Thus for thee The shoemakers are cobbling.

Thus, thus, thus!

Thus it pleases us."

Even so it pleases seamstresses to st.i.tch, laundresses to wash, carpenters to saw, silversmiths to tap, ironsmiths to pound, and little folks to dance, all for "San Sereni de la buena, buena vida."

In the second game, a gymnastic exercise, whose four movements are indicated in the four stanzas, he is apostrophized as "San Sereni del Monte, San Sereni cortes."

"San Sereni of the Mountain, Our saint of courtesy, I, as a good Christian, Will fall upon my knee.

"San Sereni of the Mountain, Where the strong winds pa.s.s, I, as a good Christian, Will seat me on the gra.s.s.

"San Sereni of the Mountain, Where the white clouds fly, I, as a good Christian, Upon the ground will lie.

"San Sereni of the Mountain, Where earth and heaven meet, I, as a good Christian, Will spring upon my feet."

With the legend of St. Katharine and her martyrdom childish fancy has played queer caprices.

"In Cadiz was a wean--ah!

The gentlest ever seen--ah!

Her name was Catalina.

Ay, so!

Her name was Catalina.

"Her father, Moslem cruel, He made her bring in fuel.

Her mother fed her gruel.

Ay, so!

Her mother fed her gruel.

"They beat her Tuesday, Wednesday, They beat her Thursday, Friday, They beat her Sat.u.r.day, Monday.

Ay, so!

They beat her hardest Sunday.