My Mother Goose Book. I don't recall a time when I didn't have it. It was printed in 1915, and its frontspiece quotes the introduction from another volume printed in 1833:
HEAR WHAT MA'AM GOOSE SAYS!
My dear little Blossoms, there are now in this world, and always will be, a great many grannies besides myself, both in petticoats
and pantaloons, some a deal younger to be sure; but all monstrous wise, and of my own family name. These old women, who never had
chick nor child of their own, but who always know how to bring up other people's children, will tell you with very long faces, that
my enchanting, quieting, soothing volume, my all-sufficient anodyne for cross, peevish, won't-be-comforted little bairns, ought to be
laid aside for more learned books, such as THEY could select and publish. Fudge! I tell you that all their batterings can't deface
my beauties, nor their wise pratings equal my wiser prattlings; and all imitators of my refreshing songs might as well write a new
Billy Shakespeare as another Mother Goose--we two great poets were born together, and we shall go out of the world together.
No, no, my Melodies will never die,
While nurses sing, or babies cry.
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But it had another effect on me, which I still don't understand, considering I was more or less a post-baby of only three or four.
I always used to look at these two pictures.
And no, I was neither looking at the old goat, nor the odd fellow in the tights.