Uppa, Uppa Holye (pronounced oopa, oopa holly).
When the writer was a boy, the following were the words used in the boys’ game of fox-hunting. When the hounds (the boys) were “at fault” the leader cried—
“Uppa, uppa holye,
If you don’t speak
My dogs shan’t folly.”
(East Cornwall. F. W. P. Jago, M.B., Plymouth.)
Boys here, as probably elsewhere, are very fond of hitting each other and then running away, shouting—
“Last blaw, never graw,
For seven years to come.”