In Scotland, when these domestic rodents became too troublesome, people of the lower classes are wont to post the following notice on the walls of their houses:
“Ratton and mouse,
Lea’ the puir woman’s house,
Gang awa’ owre by to ’e mill,
And there ane and a’ ye’ll get your fill.”
In order to make the conjuration effective some particular abode must be assigned to them; it is not sufficient to bid them begone, but they are to be told to go to a definite place. The fact that they are usually sent across a river or brook may indicate a lingering tradition of their demoniacal character, since, according to a widespread popular superstition, a water-course is a barrier to hobgoblins and evil spirits:
“A running stream they dare na cross.”
In this case the rats, as imps of Satan, having reached their destination, would find it impossible to return.
It was in Ireland, the native realm of bulls and like incongruities, that conjuring or “rhyming” rats seems to have been most common, if we may judge from the manner in which it is alluded to by the Elizabethan poets. Thus in As you Like It Rosalind says in reference to Orlando’s verses: “I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.” Randolph declares:
“My poets
Shall with a satire, steep’d in gall and vinegar,
Rhime ’em to death, as they do rats in Ireland.”
Ben Jonson is still more specific:
“Rhime ’em to death, as they do Irish rats,
In drumming tunes.”
From this reference to the mode of conjuring it appears that the repeating of the rhymes was accompanied with the beating of a drum, as is still the usage in France. From the very earliest times a peculiar magical potency has been ascribed to words woven into rhythmic form. The fascination which metrical expression, even as a mere jingle and jargon, still retains for the youth of the individual was yet far more strongly felt in the youth of the race. The simple song was intoned as a spell and the rude chant mumbled as a charm.