Riddles and Fortunes
Telling riddles is no lost art in the Blue Ridge Country and their text and answers are much the same whether you turn to the Carolinas, Tennessee, or Virginia. There is little difference among those who tell them. It is usually the older women who cling to the tradition which goes hand-in-hand with trying fortunes.
Aunt Lindie Reffitt in Laurel Cove would rather have a bevy of young folks around her anytime than to sit with women of her own age. “It’s more satisfaction to let a body’s knowing fall on fresh ears.” That was her talk.
Aunt Lindie knew no end of riddles and ways to try fortunes. And as soon as girl or boy either turned their thoughts to love they took occasion to drop in at Aunt Lindie’s.
What would be the color of their true love’s eyes, the hair? Or, “Tell me, Aunt Lindie”—a lovelorn one begged—“will I have a mate at all or die unwed?” And the old woman, sipping a cup of sassafras tea made tasty with spice-wood sticks, had an answer ready:
“On the first day of May, just as soon as the sun comes up, go to an old well that’s not been used for many a year. With a piece of looking glass cast a shadow into the well. The face that appears reflected there will be that of your true love. The one you are to wed.”
One of the Spivey girls had tried her fortune so. And no one could make her believe other than that the handsome black-mustached man from Collins Gap was the one whom she had seen reflected in the well. They married. But poor Minnie Tinsley. That same May she tried her fortune at the well. But never a face appeared. Instead there seemed to float to the surface of the water a piece of wood in the shape of a coffin. Minnie died before the summer was over. For a while others were afraid to go near the well. But, as Aunt Lindie reminded, “There are other ways. In the springtime the first dove you hear cooing to its mate, sit down, slip off your shoe, and there you will find in the heel a hair. It will be the color of your husband’s locks.”
There were other ways too, even for the very, very young. To try this fortune it had to be a very mild winter when flowers came early, for this was a fortune for St. Valentine’s Day. “The lad sets out early on his quest,” Aunt Lindie explained. “He knows to look in a place where there is rabbit bread on the ground—where the frost spews up and swells the ground. Close by there will be a clump of stones, and if he looks carefully there he will find snuggled under the stones a little Jack-in-the-pulpit. He plucks the flower and leaves it at the door of his sweetheart. Though all the time she has listened inside for his coming, she pretends not to have heard until he scampers away and hides—but not too far away lest he fail to hear her singing softly as she gathers up his token of love:
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A little wee man in the wood he stood,
His cap was so green and also his hood. By my step rock he left me a love token sweet, From my own dear true love, far, far down the creek. Some call his name Valentine, St. Valentine good, This little wee man in the wood where he stood. |
When Aunt Lindie finished singing the ballad she never failed to add, “That is the best way I know to try a body’s fortune. My own Christopher Reffitt was scarce six when he left such a love token on my step rock and I a little tyke of five.”
Many a night they told riddles at Aunt Lindie’s until she herself could not think of another one. Some of the young folks came from Rough Creek away off on Little River and some from Bullhead Mountain and the Binner girls from Collins Gap. If several of the girls took a notion to stay all night, Aunt Lindie Reffitt made a pallet on the floor of extra quilts and many a time she brought out the ironing board, placed it between two chairs for a bed for the youngsters, Josie Binner, her hair so curly you couldn’t tell which end was growing in her head, always wanted to outdo everyone else. Some said Josie was briggaty because she had been off to settlements like Lufty and Monaville.
No sooner had they gathered around the fireplace and Aunt Lindie had pointed out the first one to tell a riddle, than Josie popped right up to give the answer. It didn’t take Aunt Lindie a second to put her in her place. “Josie, the way we always told riddles in my day was not for one to blab out the answer, but to let the one who gives it out to a certain one, wait until that one answers, or tries to. Your turn will come. Be patient.”
Josie Binner slumped back in her chair.
“Now tell your riddle over again, Nellie.” Aunt Lindie pointed to the Morley girl who piped in a thin voice:
| As I went over heaple steeple There I met a heap o’ people; Some was nick and some was nack, Some was speckled on the back. |
“Pooh!” scoffed Tobe Blanton to whom Nellie had turned, “that’s easy as falling off a log. A man went over a bridge and saw a hornet’s nest. Some were speckled and they flew out and stung him.”
“Being as Tobe guessed right,” Aunt Lindie was careful that the game was carried on properly, “he’s a right to give out the next riddle.”
Tobe was ready.
| A man without eyes saw plums on a tree. He neither took plums nor left plums. Pray tell me how that could be? |
The cross-eyed lad to whom Tobe had turned shook his head. “Well, then, Josie Binner, I can see you’re itchin’ to speak out. What’s the answer?”
Josie minded her words carefully. “A one-eyed man saw plums. He ate one and left one.”
It was the right answer so Josie had her turn at giving out the next riddle:
| Betty behind and Betty before. Betty all around and Betty no more. |
No one could guess the answer. Some declared it didn’t make a bit of sense and Josie, pleased as could be, challenged, “Give up?”
“Give up!” they all chorused.
“Well,” Josie felt ever so important, “a man who was about to be hanged had a dog named Betty. It scampered all around him as he walked to the gallows and then dashed off and no one saw where it went. The hangman told him if he could make up a riddle that no one could riddle they would set him free. That was the riddle!”
“Ah, shucks! Is that all?” Ben Harvey scoffed and mumbled under his breath, “I’ll bet Josie made that up herself.”
“It’s your turn.” Aunt Lindie had sharp ears and young folks had to be mannerly in her house. If not she had her own way of teaching them a lesson. She took Ben unawares. He had to think quickly and blurted out the first riddle that came to his mind:
| Black upon black, and brown upon brown, Four legs up and six legs down. |
Even half-witted Tom Cartmel to whom Ben happened to be looking gave back the answer:
“A darky riding a horse and he had a kittle turned up-side-down on his head. The kittle had four legs!”
Not even Aunt Lindie could keep a straight face, but to spare Ben’s feelings she gave out a verse that she felt certain no one could say after her. And try as they would no one could, not even when she said it slowly:
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One a-tuory
Dickie davy
Ockie bonie
Ten a-navy.
Dickie manie
Murkum tine
Humble, bumble
Twenty-nine. One a-two A zorie, zinn Allie bow Crock a-bowl. Wheelbarrow Moccasin Jollaway Ten. |
No one could say it, try as they would.
“Then answer me this,” Aunt Lindie said. “Does it spell Tennessee or is it just an old comical way of counting?”
Again no one could answer and Aunt Lindie said smilingly if she told all she knew they would know as much as she. Though perhaps she wasn’t aware of it, Aunt Lindie was keeping alive their interest in telling riddles. For young folks went about in their neighborhood trying to find answers to her riddles.
She now pointed to Katie Ford, and that young miss started right off, saying:
“As I was going to St. Ives,” but everyone protested, so Katie had to try another that everyone didn’t know.
| As I was going over London bridge I heard a lad give a call; His tongue was flesh, his mouth was horn, And such a lad was never born. |
“A rooster!” shouted cross-eyed Steve Morley, who vowed Katie looked straight at him. And in the bat of an eye he said:
| As I went over London bridge I met my sister Ann; I pulled off her head and sucked her blood And let her body stand. |
“A bottle of wine,” two in the corner spoke at once, which was against the rules, but both thought Steve was looking in their direction.
“Tell another,” Aunt Lindie settled the matter.
“As I went over London bridge I met a man,” said Steve. “If I was to tell his name I’d be to blame. I have told his name five times over. Who was it?”
No one spoke up for they all knew the answers to Steve’s simple, threadbare riddles. “The answer is I,” he said, running a hand over his bristling pompadour.
And lest he assert his rights by starting on another, Aunt Lindie, which was her right, gave a jingle and the answer to it too.
| As I walked out in my garden of lilies There I saw endible, crindible, cronable kernt Ofttimes pestered my eatable, peatable, partable present, And I called for my man William, the second of quillan, To bring me a quill of anatilus feather That I might conquer the endible, crindible, cronable kernt. |
She looked about the puzzled faces. “I’ll not plague your minds to find the answer. I’ll give it to you. As the woman walked out in her garden she saw a rabbit eating her cabbage and she called for her second husband to bring her a shotgun that she might kill the rabbit.”
The old teller of riddles pointed out that there was good in their telling. “People have been known to be scared out of doing meanness just by a riddle. Now what would you think this one would be?
| Riddle to my riddle to my right, You can’t guess where I laid last Friday night; The wind did blow, my heart did ache To see what a hole that fox did make. |
Whoever knows can answer.” She looked at Josie Binner. “You have the best remembrance of anyone I know. Don’t tell me you can’t give the answer.”
“I never heard it before,” Josie had to admit, twisting her kerchief and looking down at the floor.
“Speak out!” urged Aunt Lindie. But no one did so she riddled the riddle. “A wicked man once planned to kill his sweetheart. He went first to dig her grave and then meant to throw her into it. She got an inkling of his intent, watched from the branches of a tree, then accused him with that riddle. He skipped the country and so that riddle saved a young girl’s life. And while we’re on trees, here’s another:
| Horn eat a horn in a white oak tree. Guess this riddle and you may hang me. |
For the fun of it they all pretended not to know the answer so she gave it. “You’re just pranking,” she admonished playfully, “but nohow—a man named Horn eat a calf’s horn as he sat up in a white oak tree. But I’ll give you one now to take along with you. It’s a Bible riddle, now listen well:
That was the way Aunt Lindie and other older mountain women had of sending young folk to read the Word.
There was rarely a gathering for telling riddles and trying simple fortunes, especially during the winter, that did not end with a taffy pull. That too afforded the means for courting couples to pair off and pursue their romance.
The iron pot filled with sorghum was swung over the hearth fire to bubble and boil. In due time the mother of the household dropped some of it with a spoon into a dipper of cold water. If it hardened just right she knew the sorghum had boiled long enough. Then it was poured into buttered plates to cool. Often to add an extra flavor the taffy was sprinkled with walnut kernels. The task of picking out the kernels with Granny’s knitting needles usually fell to the younger folks. There on the hearth was a round hole worn into the stone where countless walnuts had been cracked year after year.
When the taffy had cooled so that it could be lifted up in the hands the fun of pulling it began. The girls buttered or greased their hands so that it would not stick, and the boys, of their choice, did likewise. Pulling taffy to see who could get theirs the whitest was an occasion for greatest merriment. “Mine’s the whitest,” you’d hear a young, tittering miss call out. Then followed comparisons, friendly argument. And when at last the taffy was pulled into white ropes it was again coiled on buttered plates in fancy designs of hearts and links and left to harden until it could be broken into pieces with quick tap of knife or spoon.
Once more the courting couples paired off together and helped themselves politely when the plate was passed.
Riddles and fortunes, taffy pulling and harmless kissing games, like Clap In and Clap Out, Post Office, and I Lost My Kerchief Yesterday, made for the young folk of the mountains a most happy and (to them of yesterday) a most hilarious occasion.
And when a neighbor like Aunt Binie Warwick gave out the word there’d be a frolic and dance at her house, nothing but sickness or death could keep the young people away. Such an occasion started off with a play-game song in order to get everyone in a gay mood. The hostess herself led off in the singing:
| Come gather east, come gather west, Come round with Yankee thunder; Break down the power of Mexico And tread the tyrants under. |
Everyone knew how to play it. The boys stood on one side of the room, the girls on the other, and when the old woman piped out the very first notes the boys started for the girls, each with an eye on the one of his choice. Sometimes two or more of the young fellows were of the same mind, which added to the fun and friendly rivalry. The one who first caught the right hand of the girl had her for his partner in the dance that would follow. Immediately each couple stepped aside and waited until the others had found a partner. If there was a question about it, the oldest woman present, who by her years was the recognized matchmaker of the community, decided the point.
“Who’ll do the calling?” asked the hostess, Aunt Binie.
Everyone knew there was not a better caller anywhere than Uncle Mose, who was just as apt at fiddling. So Uncle Mose proudly took his place in the corner, chair tilted back against the wall. Fiddle to chin, he called out: “Choose your partners!”
With a quick eye he singled out one couple. “Lizzie, you’ve got a bound to stand to the right of the gent!”
Quickly Lizzie, tittering and blushing, stepped to the other side of Dave.
“And you, Prudie,” Uncle Mose waved a commanding hand, “get on the other side of John. You fellows from Fryin’ Pan best learn the proper ways here and now.”
A wave of laughter swept over the gathering and Uncle Mose, sweeping the bow across the strings, called: “Salute your partner!”
There was bowing and shuffling of feet and, as the tempo of the fiddle increased, heels clicked against the bare floor and the caller’s voice rang out above music and laughter:
| Salute your corner lady, Salute your partners, all: Swing your corner lady And promenade the hall. |
They danced to the fiddle music of O Suzanna and Life on the Ocean Wave, and Uncle Mose had calls to suit any tune:
| Swing old Adam Swing Miss Eve, Then swing your partner As you leave. |
Now and then a breathless girl would drop out and rest a moment leaning against the wall. And just for fun an oldster like Old Buck Rawlins, who didn’t even have a partner, caught up one boot toe and hopped off to a corner moaning:
| Sudie, Sudie, my foot is sore, A-dancing on your puncheon floor. |
Sometimes a young miss limped off to a chair. “Making out like someone stepped on her toe,” Aunt Binie whispered behind her hand, for she knew all the signs of young folks, “but she’s just not wanting to dance with Big Foot Jeff Pickett.” The next moment Dan Spotswood had pulled himself loose from his cross-eyed partner and made his way to the side of his true love who had limped to the corner.
Nor was Uncle Mose unmindful of what was going on. The caller must have a quick eye, know who is courting, who is on the outs, who craves to be again in the arms of so and so. Quick as a flash he shouted, “Which shall it be Butterfly Swing or Captain Jinks?”
“Captain Jinks,” cried Dan Spotswood jovially. For Dan knew the ways of the mountains. He didn’t want any hard feelings with anyone. This dance would give all an opportunity to mingle and exchange partners. Even though Big Foot had tried his best to break up the match between him and Nellie, Dan meant that that fellow shouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing his jealousy. So he urged the couples into the circle. Dan, however, did see to it that he had Nellie’s hand as they circled halfway around the crowded room before following the familiar calls of the play-party game as they sang the words along with the lively notes of the fiddle. They were words that their grandparents had sung in the days of the Civil War, with some latter-day changes:
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Captain Jinks came home last night.
Pass your partner to the right;
Swing your neighbor so polite,
For that’s the style in the army. All join hands and circle left, Circle left, circle left, All join hands and circle left, For that’s the style in the army. |
They saluted partners, they stepped and circled, and sashayed, they fairly galloped around the room, much to the disapproval of old Aunt Binie. “I don’t favor no such antic ways. They’re steppin’ too lively.” Her protest was heeded.
The fiddler stopped short. Folks were respectful in that day and time.
“Mose,” the hostess called out to the fiddler when he had rested a little while, “please to strike up the tune Pop Goes the Weasel.”
No sooner said than done. The notes of the fiddle rang out and Uncle Mose himself led off in the singing:
| A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle, |
while old and young joined in the singing as each lad stepped gallantly to the side of the girl of his choice and went through the steps of the Virginia Reel.
Though all knew every step and danced with grace and ease, they perhaps did not know that the dance was that of Sir Roger de Coverley; that it was one of a large number of English country dances, so called, not because they were danced in the country, but because their English ancestors corrupted the French word contredanse, which had to do with the position the dancers assume. Of one thing they could be sure, however, they owed it to their elders that this charming dance had survived.[A]
With what charming ease even old Aunt Binie with an aged neighbor went through the lovely figures of the Virginia Reel, harking back to the days of powdered wigs, buckled shoes, satin breeches and puffed skirts, as the head lady and foot gentleman skipped forward to meet each other in the center of the set. How gracefully she bowed to him and he to her with hand upon his chest, as they returned to their places!
Then the head lady and foot gentleman skipped forward, made one revolution, holding right hands.
With dignity and charm they went through the entire dance while those on the side lines continued to sing with the fiddle:
| A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle. That’s the way the money goes. Pop! goes the weasel. |
Each time on the word “Pop!” the fiddler briskly plucked a string.
There was an interlude of fiddle music without words, then followed another verse while the dancers stepped the tune:
| All around the American flag, All around the eagle, The monkey kissed the parson’s wife, Pop! goes the weasel. |
This was followed by a lively tune, Vauxhall Dance, with a lusty call from the fiddler: “Circle eight!”
Whereupon all joined hands, circled to the left and to place.
| Head couple out to the right and circle four, With all your might Around that couple take a peek! |
At this Dan Spotswood peeked at smiling Nellie, almost forgetting to follow the next figure in his excitement.
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Back to the center and swing when you meet,
Around that couple peek once more. Back to the center and swing all four, Circle four and cross right o’er. |
The dance was moving toward the end.
“Balance all. Allemande left and promenade,” the fiddler’s voice raised louder.
There was repetition of calls and figures and a final booming from the indefatigable caller: “Meet your partners and promenade home.”
Then the fiddler struck up Cackling Hen and a Breakdown so that the nimblest of the dancers might show out alone and so the frolic and dance ended.
DANCE DIRECTIONS:
| I. | a. Head lady and foot gentleman skip forward to meet each other in center of the set. They bow and return to places. |
| b. Head gentleman and foot lady repeat a. | |
| II. | a. The head lady and foot gentleman skip forward and make one revolution, holding right hands. |
| b. The head gentleman and foot lady repeat a. | |
| c. The head lady and foot gentleman skip forward and make one revolution, holding left hands. | |
| d. Head gentleman and foot lady repeat c. | |
| III. | a. Head lady and foot gentleman skip forward and around each other back to back. |
| b. Head lady and foot gentleman repeat a. | |
| IV. | The head couple meet in center, lock right arms, and make one and one-half revolutions. They go down the set swinging each one once around with left arms locked, the gentleman swinging the ladies, the lady swinging the gentlemen. They meet each other swinging around with right arms locked, between each turn down the line. They swing thus down the set. |
| V. | Couples join hands, forming a bridge under which the head couple skips to head of set. They separate, skipping down the outside of the lines and take their new places at the foot of the set. The original second couple is now the head couple. The dance is repeated from the beginning until each couple has been the head couple. |