February 1955 | Volume 6, Issue 2
Chief, Folklore Section, The Library of Congress
During the last century and the early part of the present one, elocution books, designed to “per fect the principles of per fect pronunciation,” enshrined in their pages such gems as: I said “a knap-sack strap,” not “a knap-sack’s strap”; His exclamation was, “Chaste stars!” not “Chase tars!”; The old cold scold sold a school coal-scuttle; Bring me some ice, not some mice; and, Did you say a notion or an ocean? J. W. Shoemaker in his Practical Elocution (Philadelphia, 1878) elevated these “recreations in articulation” above the risible in a cautionary note “To The Teacher: While many of the exercises given may create amusement in a class, a higher motive than ‘Amusement’ has prompted their insertion. Practice is here afforded in nearly every form of difficult articulation.”
On the Sunday Weekend program over the NBC radio network, to which I contribute a segment on folklore, I twice requested listeners to send in those tongue-twisters which they remembered as hand-me-down family items. The tanglers poured in, some of them obviously freshly dusted from memory’s attic, others quite as lively as current slang and jargon. Many of them, of course, had their origin in works such as Mr. Shoemaker’s. Following this “academic” acquisition of them, however, the people took them over and circulated them orally in the folk manner without reference to original sources. They also made up or happened upon their own. In all cases the twisters which follow are current today, and are a selection of those which have come in from the NBC program. They now form part of the folklore collections of the Library of Congress.
The “game” of the tongue-twister—for the edification and amusement of young and old—consists in repeating the shorter twisters three or four times rapidly from memory without stumbling. With the longer ones, once through is enough. To read them aloud, however, is relatively simple, and does not count.
In the difficult and popular s and sh cycle, I have listed the “sea shell” variants simply to illustrate the alterations, or re-creations, which occur also in the “slick saplings,” “Peter Piper,” “gray geese,” and “Bitty Batter” twisters. By way, then, of a small anthology for a rainy afternoon or a wintry evening around the fire:
Continuing with the s and sh grouping:
The classic tongue-twister is, of course, “Peter Piper,” who is actually only the letter “P” of a once total alphabet. All of his other delightful companions—Andrew Airpump, Lanky Lawrence, Sammy Smellie, Tiptoe Tommy, Walter Waddle—live a half life on the printed page. Peter Piper alone circulates among the folk, and one of the reasons for his survival is to be found in the printed alphabet itself which was first published by J. Harris at St. Paul’s Churchyard in London, n. d.
To begin with, the small illustrated pamphlet used Peter Piper’s name in the title: Peter Piper’s Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation . The emphasis upon him continues in the introduction which states that “Peter Piper…Puts Pen to Paper to Produce these Puzzling Pages, Purposely to Please the Palates of Pretty Prattling Playfellows.” The standard form of the alphabet consists of four lines with an initial statement followed by two doubting questions:
Two hardy favorites, almost as popular as “Peter Piper,” are “Bitty Batter” and “Theophilus Thistle,” both of whom have their problems:
The surrealistic, Daliesque quality inherent in the longer twisters carries over also into a good majority of the shorter ones. This quality, like the “nonsense” words in many of the cumulative folksongs for children adds to their enjoyment by youngsters.
Several informants wrote of a game which they enjoyed in their youth, a game which obviously must have contributed much to the tongue-twister repertoire. Quite simply, it consists of concocting long sentences and beginning each word in the sentence with the same letter followed by vowel or consonant combinations to produce a twister:
With these sentences we have come, pedagogically, full circle to Mr. Shoemaker and his “recreations in articulation”: in these late and degenerate days, such sentences must surely be termed “vocabulary builders!”
The folk perversely call them tongue-twisters, and enjoy them.