12 Nights of Mummers
Newfoundland Mummer Limericks
Through the 12 nights of Christmas, people in Newfoundland dressed in bizarre disguises and travelled in groups from house-to-house. They called it mummering. When these mummers were invited inside they danced, drank and generally made merry. It was the job of the host to try to determine the identity of the mysterious strangers. A good time was had by… most. The truth is mummering was always a bit scary and it was sometimes downright dark. During the 2021 Christmas season I shared a limerick a day depicting various aspects of mummering — I tried to hit on the humour, the fear and some of the mischief mummers got up to.
Here they are — all ‘12 Nights of Mummers’ collected. Enjoy.
The First Night
One mummer in old drawers was last—
The folk guessed and questioned quite fast.
Though he kept his disguise,
When his trapdoor did rise,
The bottom was got to, and fast.
The Second Night
When the mummers appeared on the ridge,
Aunt Kate dropped her mop by the fridge.
She cried, “Not my floor!
Stay out by the door!
Have cake, b’ys, out here on the bridge!”
The Third Night
A weary old woman named Grace
Found her husband a worn pillowcase:
“Mummering’s the best gift,
It gives me a lift—
When he hides his crooked old face.”
The Fourth Night
In December one mummering creep
Was happy the snow was so deep.
Without need of a boost,
The chance introduced,
More windows through which he could peep.
The Fifth Night
A widow from way up the shore
Gave drinks to mummers and more:
She’d pick a young chap
Plop down in his lap,
And say things his wife would abhor.
The Sixth Night
IIn the shadow beyond the gate,
Loomed a mummer who lingered till late.
With a chill in the air,
I froze in despair,
As the stranger stood silent, in wait.
The Seventh Night
There once was a mummer from Croque,
Whose teeth whistled loud when he spoke.
To stay in disguise,
He blinked with his eyes,
Morse code to converse with the folk.
The Eighth Night
The mummers who came down the road,
Brought a beast with eyes dead and cold.
With jaws clapping coarse,
An old hobby horse,
Brought terror to timid and bold.
The Ninth Night
At my school, for propriety’s sake,
The concert served syrup and cake.
But Nan, with a grin,
Sneaked in with her gin,
And kissed teacher, as if by mistake.
The tenth Night
Old Josie, so cunning and keen,
Cut her cake into slices quite lean.
With a man and his wife
To steady her knife,
She caused quite a scandalous scene.
The Eleventh Night
Two fellows in costumes, hand-made,
By darkness, their true selves displayed.
Hands touched, they drew near,
With gay Yuletide cheer,
For pleasures the daylight forbade.
The Twelfth Night
Old Christmas was loud in the bay,
A mummer declared, with dismay,
“That’s enough of this cheer,
I’ll pause till next year—
Or at least ’til St. Patrick’s Day.”