or cockylorum, subs. (common).—1. A half contemptuous address.—See quot.
1815–23. T. C. CARTER, in Daily News, 7 Dec., 1889, p. 3, col. 5. In 1823 was displayed in a shop window in Pilgrim Street, Ludgate Hill, a picture entitled ‘Seizure for Rent.’ It represented the interior of a room; the only article of furniture a bottomless chair, on the edge of which was seated a half-clad man smoking a pipe. The doorway was filled up by a very fat beadle in full uniform; behind him in the shade could be seen two men, each with a porter’s knot. To the beadle the tenant was saying: ‘Now then, old COCKALORUM jig, seize away.’ In my school days, from 1815 to 1820, we often heard in the playground: ‘Now little COCKALORUM, out of that.’
2. (schoolboys’).—A rough and tumble game described as follows by a correspondent of the Pall Mall Gazette (1890, Jan. 4, p. 2, col. 1):—
| When I went to Harrow, thirty years ago, I found a winter evening game in force there, called ‘high COCKALORUM,’ of which I send you a sketch. The players used to divide into two opposing bands of from twelve to fourteen each—in fact, the more the merrier. One side ‘went down,’ so as to constitute a long ‘hogsback’—the last boy having a couple of pillows between himself and the wall, and each boy clasping his front rank man, and carefully tucking his own ‘cocoa-nut’ under his right arm, so as to prevent fracture of the vertebræ. When the hogsback was thus formed, the other side came on, leap-frogging on to the backs of those who were down, the best and steadiest jumpers being sent first. Sometimes the passive line was broken quite easily by the ruse of a short high jump, coming with irresistible impulse on a back which was not expecting weight just yet. Sometimes a too ambitious leap-frogger ruined his party by overbalancing and falling off. It was, however, as the last two or three leapfroggers came on that the real excitement more generally began. There was absolutely no back-space belonging to the other party left to them; and they were obliged to pile themselves one upon another—‘Pelion on Ossa’ as it was called. When the last man was up it was his duty to say, ‘High COCKALORUM jig jig jig—high COCKALORUM jig jig jig—high COCKALORUM jig jig jig—off, off, off,’ and then alone was it permissible for tortured and perspiring human nature to fall in one indistinguishable heap to the ground. The repeater of the shibboleth often fell off himself as he was uttering the above incantation—thus losing the victory for his side. It was a splendid game. I understood from family inquiries that it was played at Harrow in my great grandfather’s time. |
