CALLUINN.
Towards evening men began to gather and boys ran about shouting and laughing, playing shinty, and rolling “pigs of snow” (mucan sneachda), i.e. large snowballs. The hide of the mart or winter cow (seiche a mhairt gheamhraidh) was wrapped round the head of one of the men, and he made off, followed by the rest, belabouring the hide, which made a noise like a drum, with switches. The disorderly procession went three times deiseal, according to the course of the sun (i.e. keeping the house on the right hand) round each house in the village, striking the walls and shouting on coming to a door:
“The calluinn of the yellow bag of hide,
Strike the skin (upon the wall)
An old wife in the graveyard,
An old wife in the corner,
Another old wife beside the fire,
A pointed stick in her two eyes,
A pointed stick in her stomach,
Let me in, open this.”[54]
Before this request was complied with, each of the revellers had to repeat a rhyme, called Rann Calluinn (i.e. a Christmas rhyme), though, as might be expected when the door opened for one, several pushed their way in, till it was ultimately left open for all. On entering each of the party was offered refreshments, oatmeal bread, cheese, flesh, and a dram of whisky. Their leader gave to the goodman of the house that indispensable adjunct of the evening’s mummeries, the Caisein-uchd, the breast-stripe of a sheep wrapped round the point of a shinty stick. This was then singed in the fire (teallach), put three times with the right-hand turn (deiseal) round the family, and held to the noses of all. Not a drop of drink was given till this ceremony was performed. The Caisein-uchd was also made of the breast-stripe or tail of a deer, sheep, or goat, and as many as choose had one with them.
The house was hung with holly to keep out the fairies, and a boy, whipped with a branch of it, may be assured he will live a year for every drop of blood he loses. This scratching and assurance were bestowed by boys on one another, and was considered a good joke.
Cheese was an important part of the refreshments, and was known as the Christmas cheese (Càise Calluinn). A slice, cut off at this feast, or a piece of the rind (cùl na mulchaig), if preserved and with a hole made through it, has strange virtues. It was called laomachan, and a person losing his way during the ensuing year, in a mist or otherwise, has only to look through the hole and he will see his way clearly. By scrambling to the top of the house, and looking through it down the fàr-lus (the hole in the roof that served in olden times for chimney and window), a person can ascertain the name of his or her future husband or wife. It will prove to be the same as that of the first person seen, or heard named. A piece of laomachan is also valuable for putting under one’s pillow to sleep over.
In this style the villagers, men and boys, went from house to house, preceded in many cases by a piper, and drowning the animosities of the past year in hilarity and merriment.
CHRISTMAS RHYMES (Rann Calluinn).
In general the rhymes used, when seeking admittance, varied but little in different districts. Sometimes an ingenious person made a rhyme suitable to the place and people, and containing allusions to incidents and character that increased the prevailing fun. The following is one of the most common of the class:
“I have come here first
To renew the Hogmanay;
I need not tell about it,
It was kept in my grandfather’s time.
The Calluinn Breast-stripe is in my pocket,
A goodly mist comes from it;
The goodman will get it first,
And shove its nose into the fire upon the hearth.
It will go sunwise round the children,
And particularly the wife will get it;
’Tis his own wife best deserves it,
Hand to distribute the Christmas cakes.
Rise down, young wife,
And young wife who hast earned praise;
Rise (and come) down, as you were wont,
And bring down our Calluinn to us.
The cheese, that has the smooth face,
And butter eye has not blinked;
But if you have not that beside you,
Bread and flesh will suffice.
There is water in my shoes,
And my fingers are cut,
There is in beside the fire,
What will cure my complaint,
And if you have room to move,
Rise and bring down the glass.”
The following New-Year’s rhyme must have tried the breath of the speaker and the patience of his listeners considerably. It consists probably of several separate rhymes tagged together, and the allusions it contains to the “big clerk of the street,” etc., make it highly probable the ceremonies of the evening were remains of the Festival of Fools, and had their origin in the streets of Rome. The rhyme is given as it came to hand.
“Bless this cheerful dwelling,
With a musical voice,
That it be like a royal palace,
Without being wasteful.
Bless each man
Who surrounds this gathering,
From the one grown grey with seniority
To the one of infant’s age.
Bless our gentle men,
And our young children,
All who chance at this time
To come to Donald’s.
Men! this begins my tale
And I must tell it.
Ho! each black, black generous one!
Hò-go! each generous one!
Divide this portion
My servant harrowed!
More produce!
Then it was that Margaret said,
‘O dear! more produce!’
Then said Mary,
‘My dearest dear!
Martin is behind the door,
Listening to us!’
‘That is his excuse,’ said she.
Hu fudar! hei fedar!
Up with you, you cajoler!
Fierce icinesses rose
On Donald,
He levelled at Margaret
Fair abuse!
He gave a tap to the harp,
And the strings sounded.
He quickly drew a crambat
And tried to tune it.
‘You have done a mischief,’ said the clerk,
‘That I don’t regret!
Utter ruin has come upon you,
With your broken stick!’
‘You have a healing vessel,’
Said the harper.
‘When you are tried with it a second time,
’Twill make the stick whole;
So your share be yours of the healing cup.
O dearest sir!
May that stick of many virtues
Be full of produce!’
I went on candle night to hold New Year revel,
In the house of fat puddings,
I asked admittance at the door,
Coaxingly with fair words;
The big clerk of the street spoke
A senseless word,
‘If my gold crook were in my hand,
I would not let your head whole from the door.’
I took the north turn to the door,
That was a north turn of mischief to me;
I struck the big toe of my foot
In the face of a stone,
The pin fell, the pan fell,
The harrows in the door fell,
They made a cling clang clattering!
Rise down, young wife,
And honest dame, that hast carried praise,
Be womanly as thou wert wont,
And bring our Christmas gifts to us.
The smoothed-faced cheese,
And entrails prepared with juice;
But if these are not convenient,
Bread and cheese will suffice.
It was not greed with open mouth
That brought me to the town,
But a hamper
On my servant’s back!
A white servant catch me,
Fatness burns me!
Open and let me in!
‘True for him,’ said the goodman, ‘let him in.’”
The following rhyme was appointed for all who had nothing else to say:
“I do not dislike cheese,
And have no aversion to butter;
But a little drop from the cask
My throttle is in quest of.”