What moronic, sadistic assholes came up with some of this shit?

I’m talking about nursery rhymes supposedly created for children to make them calm, happy and even sleepy. CHILDREN for God’s sake. Tender, giggling, wide-eyed innocent children.

Okay, okay, I’ll take a breath and try to calm my ass down. Maybe you folks have no idea what’s got my knickers in such a bunch this morning. Fair enough, let me share with you three of the most frightening, ill-thought out nursery rhymes some idiots came up with. If I was a betting man (I must be, I’m betting on this story right?) I’d say whoever thought of most of these rhymes was a sadistic piece of shit.

So here goes.

Number one on the chart of scaring the shit out of little children.

Rock A Bye Baby

Rock-a-bye, baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all
Baby is drowsing, cozy and fair
Mother sits near in her rocking chair
Forward and back, the cradle, she swings
And though baby sleeps, he hears what she sings
Rock-a-bye, baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all
Rock-a-bye, baby
Rock-a-bye, baby
Rock-a-bye, baby
Rock-a-bye, baby
Rock-a-bye, baby

What the FUCK???

Read the stanza again for God’s sake. What crazy MF is going to sing a song to their baby warning them if they don’t fall asleep they’re going to stuff their own flesh in blood, their pride and joy in the bough of a tree?

Are you fucking kidding me?

What? Does Mommy and Daddy have important meetings the next day and the child is still trying to get it’s sleep pattern down? Do Freddie Kruger Daddy and Mommy Dearest need a good night’s sleep so bad they need to threaten to put their own damned child outside in the bough of a tree?

Do they actually sing this song to their little poop machine trying to get the baby to sleep?

Sure they do and does the baby sleep?

Not so fucking much. The child’s probably terrorized into catatonic paralysis before Mom and Dad finish the first stanza. All the child’s hearing is a pair of lunatics telling him or her to shut the fuck up and go to sleep right this very minute or they’re going to stick them in a tree branch for the night.

Seriously?

Newsflash here to whomever came up with this blue ribbon winner. The wind will blow you dumb ass. The fucking bough will break and guess what? Down will come baby, cradle and all.

And it will break it’s tiny neck and die.

Did you even think about this shit when came up with this song? Do you honestly think it’s okay to sing it to your child? I bet when you came up with this rhyme you sang it to your kids all the time didn’t you? You probably sang it to them till your throat got sore didn’t ya?

Yeah asshole, you probably thought it was so cute you sang it right up until you got the bill for all the psychiatry sessions. You know what I’m talking about. The psychiatry sessions your kids went through because they’re just now remembering what a miserable fuck you were for threatening them with that song their entire lives?

Yeah, those sessions.

Number two on the sadistic hit list

Three Blind Mice

Three blind mice.

Three blind mice.

See how they run.

See how they run.

They all ran after the farmer’s wife,

Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,

Did you ever see such a sight in your life,

As three blind mice?

Oh yeah, another joyous celebration of mayhem and bloodshed.

The fucking mice are blind for God’s sake and yet they ran after the farmer’s wife? The mice couldn’t see her, and yet they made a bee line straight for her ass? What? Did they have like, super-bat sonic hearing or something?

Were they zombie mice looking for a fresh meal and the farmer’s wife seemed a perfect victim of circumstance?

No, they were just fucking blind mice.

And what does the farmer’s wife do?

She cuts the tails off of each one of them. Blind mice who had no fucking clue what was about to happen. Three blind mice who certainly never saw the carving knife as the farmer’s wife severed their tails right off, leaving them with bloody appendages and only moments to live.

Hey my little child of innocence, did you ever see such a sight in your life as three horribly mutilated rodents dying in pools of their own blood?

Think on that when you try to sleep tonight okay dear?

Number three on the little shop of horror, uh list of nursery rhymes.

Ring Around The Rosie

Ring around the Rosie,
Pockets full of posies;
Ashes, Ashes,
We all fall down.

Oh, here we go.

Although several “history experts” will disclaim the origin of this little hit, general consensus tells us otherwise. Four lines. Four simple lines which tell the following tale.

Ring around the Rosie. This line refers to the purplish marks around a person’s eyes. The first sign the proud possessor of said rings has the fucking BLACK PLAGUE.

Yes, you’re singing a wonderful little ditty to your child about dying from a plague which ravaged Europe in the middle ages and KILLED MILLIONS.

Man, that ought to put your child at ease and help them drift right off to sleep.

Right?

Pockets full of posies. Be sure your child’s nightgown or jammy pockets are stuffed with plenty of posies as you sing this part of the ditty to them. First your child will smell good and probably sleep much better. Second, the scent of the posies will mask the stench of their bodies rotting from the fucking BLACK PLAGUE.

Ashes, Ashes. Tell your child not worry their pretty little head about those boils. Sooth their fears with a promise when they die you’ll have them cremated because back in the day they always burned the bodies of those who died from the BLACK FUCKING PLAGUE. Comfort your child with soothing promises you’ll put their ashes in a vase and set it on the mantle.

Let them know you’ll see them in the morning.

Before you turn off the light tell yourself maybe you won’t see them in the morning.

We all fall down. Ease your child’s fretful sleep by letting them know we’re all going to die sometime. Tell them not to worry. Remind them it’s just because they have the BLACK PLAGUE they’re fucked and going to die quicker. But assure them Mommy and Daddy will eventually come to see them in heaven.

So you tell me. What’s a child who finally figures out what Ring Around The Rosie really means thinking each time Mom or Dad sings it to them? Here’s a guess. I’m willing to bet they’re in bed staring into the darkness shivering in fear, wondering why in the hell Mom and Dad keep singing this one particular song to them every fucking night.

Oh yeah, they’re thinking they’re gonna die.

So people for God’s sake think about this shit before you start singing these kinds of songs to your children.

Your kids don’t want to fall out of a tree while they’re trying to get some shut eye. They don’t want images of a sadistic farmer’s wife mutilating rodents running around in their heads while they try to sleep. They certainly don’t want to think about dying, being burned into ashes and adorning your fucking mantle inside a vase.

They’re humans, tiny humans, and they deserve a good night’s rest, same as you do.

Let’s keep in touch: paul@pgbarnett.com