Baa Baaa Black Sheep Download 720p Movie
Ania Cozzolino
The rhyme is a single stanza in trochaic metre, common in nursery rhymes and relatively easy for younger children.[2][3] The Roud Folk Song Index classifies the song as 4439; variants have been collected across Great Britain and North America.[4]
The rhyme is sung to a variant of the 18th century French melody Ah! vous dirai-je, maman,[1] also used for "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", "Little Polly Flinders", and "Alphabet song". The words and melody were first published together by A. H. Rosewig in (Illustrated National) Nursery Songs and Games, published in Philadelphia in 1879.[5]
In the next surviving printing, in Mother Goose's Melody (c. 1765), the text remained the same, except the last lines, which were given as, "But none for the little boy who cries in the lane".[1]
As with many nursery rhymes, attempts have been made to find origins and meanings for the rhyme, most of which have no corroborating evidence.[1] Katherine Elwes Thomas in The Real Personages of Mother Goose (1930) suggested the rhyme referred to resentment at the heavy taxation on wool.[7] This has been taken to refer to the medieval English "Great" or "Old Custom" wool tax of 1275, which survived until the fifteenth century.[1] More recently the rhyme has been alleged to have a connection to the slave trade, particularly in the southern United States.[8] This explanation was advanced during debates over political correctness and the use and reform of nursery rhymes in the 1980s, but has no supporting historical evidence.[9] Rather than being negative, the wool of black sheep may have been prized as it could be made into dark cloth without dyeing.[8]
In 1986 the British popular press reported a controversy over the rhyme's language, suggesting that "black" was being treated as a racial term. This was based on a rewriting of the rhyme in one private nursery as an exercise for the children there.[10] A similar controversy emerged in 1999 when reservations about the rhyme were submitted to Birmingham City Council by a working group on racism in children's resources.[11] Two private nurseries in Oxfordshire in 2006 altered the song to "Baa Baa Rainbow Sheep", with "black" being replaced with a variety of other adjectives such as "happy", "sad", "hopping" and "pink".[12] Commentators have asserted that these controversies have been exaggerated or distorted by some elements of the press as part of a general campaign against political correctness.[10]
The phrase "yes sir, yes sir, three bags full sir" has been used in reference to an obsequious or craven subordinate. It is attested from 1910, and originally was common in the British Royal Navy.[14]
The rhyme has often appeared in literature and popular culture. Rudyard Kipling used it as the title of an 1888 semi-autobiographical short story.[7] The name Black Sheep Squadron was used for the Marine Attack Squadron 214 of the United States Marine Corps from 1942 and the title Baa Baa Black Sheep was used for a book by its leader Colonel Gregory "Pappy" Boyington and for a TV series (later syndicated as Black Sheep Squadron) that aired on NBC from 1976 until 1978.[15] In 1951, together with "In the Mood", "Baa Baa Black Sheep" was the first song ever to be digitally saved and played on a computer.[16]
Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy, who lives down the lane.
Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
For some color fun, try singing this traditional song with other color sheep.
Then you can use Mem Fox's book: Where is the Green Sheep?, opens a new window
Baa, baa, sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy, who lives down the lane.
Baa, baa, sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
Kids think this is pretty silly. I usually have pictures of sheep that I have colored different colors. I have the kids guess the color to help build vocabulary and color recognition.
Did you know that it had to do with taxation in the middle ages? one for the master a third going to the crown, one for the dame, a further third going to the Church (mother Church) and one (and sometimes none) for the little boy who lives (or cries) down the lane.
It certainly shouldn't be banned anywhere - it is a traditional nursery rhyme and has no racial connotations. There were a couple of perhaps well meaning but extremely misinformed nurseries a few years back that took this step and of course the media decided to completely sensationalise the whole incident. However, as Marion says the urban myth persists!
Phew!! Don't want to go into too much detail but I had an incident in my setting on friday regarding the singing of this song/rhyme. When I delved a little deeper I was told by a colleague who works in our borough that some settings had banned it due to it not being PC. Apparently some are told in training that it is about slavery!!!
I am so glad to hear that you all feel the same way as I do. I think the incident was completely out of hand and I am sure there will be further repercussions. I will use your support to help me keep my cool
A collegue was saying on Friday that her mother had come back from playgroup with my collegues 2 years old daughter with a similiar tale. At singing time when the children were asked what they would like to sing my friends daughter had requested Baa, Baa Black sheep to be told the group couldn't sing about the black sheep but they would sing the other colours!!
But you can see how these things are propagated can't you? We definitely sing the black version, but I also love all the other coloured versions! Bet I won't remember them come the next singing session though!
From what I remember reading years ago, this story was thought up by the Sun as a dig at the real silliness invading our lives. It was meant to be a joke but some people thought it was a trueth and so it stuck. A bit like the egg boxes.
It's quite worrying to think that media hype several years ago should still be influencing the practice in some playgroups/nurseries today. I sometimes despair that people don't question these sorts of things and just accept what they are told by someone who obviously has just passed it on unthinkingly themselves. Well done Wendles for bringing the subject up - hopefully we can enlighten some people!
In the last nursery school I worked in 98% of children were from BME families and Baa Baa Black Sheep was one of their favourites. We never had any comments about it from parents when the children went home singing it as children love to do. When asked what they wanted to sing it was ALWAYS BBBS or Twinkle Twinkle.
We also sing Baa, Baa white sheep with 3 needles full, one to mend the jumpers , one to mend the frocks and one to mend the GREAT BIG HOLE in.................'s socks. Maybe a bit old fashioned now - people don't seem to mend things anymore! Children love it though. korkycat
The rhyme probably dates back to the Middle Ages, possibly to the 13th Century, and relates to a tax imposed by the king on wool. One-third went to the local lord (the 'master'), one-third to the church (referred to as the 'dame') and about a third was for the farmer (the 'little boy who lives down the lane').
spoke to the person in question today and apparetnly it is about slavery as is mulberry bush and something else as well. SHe said it was brought up in her training! SHe was adamant that it was offensive and definately about slavery
At the School Council Baa, Baa, Black Sheep was elected to a very high position among the Kipling Stories "because it shows how mean they were to a boy and he did n't need it."
Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, Sir; yes, Sir; three bags full.
One for the Master, one for the Dame--
None for the Little Boy that cries down the lane.---Nursery Rhyme.
THE FIRST BAG"When I was in my father's house, I was in a better place."
They were putting Punch to bed--the ayah and the hamal, and Meeta, the big Surti boy with the red and gold turban. Judy, already tucked inside her mosquito-curtains, was nearly asleep. Punch had been allowed to stay up for dinner. Many privileges had been accorded to Punch within the last ten days, and a greater kindness from the people of his world had encompassed his ways and works, which were mostly obstreperous. He sat on the edge of his bed and swung his bare legs defiantly."Punch-baba going to bye-lo?" said the ayah suggestively."No," said Punch. "Punch-baba wants the story about the Ranee that was turned into a tiger. Meeta must tell it, and the hamal shall hide behind the door and make tiger-noises at the proper time.""But Judy-Baba will wake up," said the ayah."Judy-baba is waking," piped a small voice from the mosquito-curtains. "There was a Ranee that lived at Delhi. Go on, Meeta," and she fell asleep again while Meeta began the story.Never had Punch secured the telling of that tale with so little opposition. He reflected for a long time. The hamal made the tiger-noises in twenty different keys."'Top!" said Punch authoritatively. "Why does n't Papa come in and say he is going to give me put-put?""Punch-baba is going away," said the ayah. "In another week there will be no Punch-baba to pull my hair any more." She sighed softly, for the boy of the household was very dear to her heart."Up the Ghauts in a train?" said Punch, standing on his bed. "All the way to Nassick, where the Ranee-Tiger lives?""Not to Nassick this year, little Sahib," said Meeta, lifting him on his shoulder. "Down to the sea where the cocoanuts are thrown, and across the sea in a big ship. Will you take Meeta with you to Belait?""You shall all come," said Punch, from the height of Meeta's strong arms. "Meeta and the ayah and the hamal and Bhini-in-the-Garden, and the salaam-Captain-Sahib-snake-man."There was no mockery in Meeta's voice when he replied--"Great is the Sahib's favour," and laid the little man down in the bed, while the ayah, sitting in the moonlight at the doorway, lulled him to sleep with an interminable canticle such as they sing in the Roman Catholic Church at Parel. Punch curled himself into a ball and slept.Next morning Judy shouted that there was a rat in the nursery, and thus he forgot to tell her the wonderful news. It did not much matter, for Judy was only three and she would not have understood. But Punch was five; and he knew that going to England would be much nicer than a trip to Nassick.* * * * *And Papa and Mamma sold the brougham and the piano, and stripped the house, and curtailed the allowance of crockery for the daily meals, and took long council together over a bundle of letters bearing the Rocklington postmark."The worst of it is that one can't be certain of anything," said Papa, pulling his moustache. "The letters in themselves are excellent, and the terms are moderate enough.""The worst of it is that the children will grow up away from me," thought Mamma; but she did not say it aloud."We are only one case among hundreds," said Papa bitterly. "You shall go Home again in five years, dear.""Punch will be ten then--and Judy eight. Oh, how long and long and long the time will be! And we have to leave them among strangers.""Punch is a cheery little chap. He's sure to make friends wherever he goes.""And who could help loving my Ju?"They were standing over the cots in the nursery late at night, and I think that Mamma was crying softly. After Papa had gone away, she knelt down by the side of Judy's cot. The ayah saw her and put up a prayer that the memsahib might never find the love of her children taken away from her and given to a stranger.Mamma's own prayer was a slightly illogical one. Summarized it ran: "Let strangers love my children and be as good to them as I should be, but let me preserve their love and their confidence for ever and ever. Amen." Punch scratched himself in his sleep, and Judy moaned a little. That seems to be the only answer to the prayer: and, next day, they all went down to the sea, and there was a scene at the Apollo Bunder when Punch discovered that Meeta could not come too, and Judy learned that the ayah must be left behind. But Punch found a thousand fascinating things in the rope, block, and steam-pipe line on the big P. and O. Steamer, long before Meeta and the ayah had dried their tears."Come back, Punch-baba," said the ayah."Come back," said Meeta, "and be a Burra Sahib.""Yes," said Punch, lifted up in his father's arms to wave good-bye. "Yes, I will come back, and I will be a Burra Sahib Bahadur!"At the end of the first day Punch demanded to be set down in England, which he was certain must be close at hand. Next day there was a merry breeze, and Punch was very sick. "When I come back to Bombay," said Punch on his recovery, "I will come by the road--in a broom-gharri. This is a very naughty ship."The Swedish boatswain consoled him, and he modified his opinions as the voyage went on. There was so much to see and to handle and ask questions about that Punch nearly forgot the ayah and Meeta and the hamal, and with difficulty remembered a few words of the Hindustani once his second-speech.But Judy was much worse. The day before the steamer reached Southampton, Mamma asked her if she would not like to see the ayah again. Judy's blue eyes turned to the stretch of sea that had swallowed all her tiny past, and she said: "Ayah! What ayah?"Mamma cried over her, and Punch marveled. It was then that he heard for the first time Mamma's passionate appeal to him never to let Judy forget Mamma. Seeing that Judy was young, ridiculously young, and that Mamma, every evening for four weeks past, had come into the cabin to sing her and Punch to sleep with a mysterious tune that he called "Sonny, my soul," Punch could not understand what Mamma meant. But he strove to do his duty, for the moment Mamma left the cabin, he said to Judy: "Ju, you bemember Mamma?""'Torse I do," said Judy."Then always bemember Mamma, 'r else I won't give you the paper ducks that the red-haired Captain Sahib cut out for me."So Judy promised always to "bemember Mamma."Many and many a time was Mamma's command laid upon Punch, and Papa would say the same thing with an insistence that awed the child."You must make haste and learn to write, Punch," said Papa, "and then you'll be able to write letters to us in Bombay.""I'll come into your room," said Punch, and Papa choked.Papa and Mamma were always choking in those days. If Punch took Judy to task for not "bemembering," they choked. If Punch sprawled on the sofa in the Southampton lodging-house and sketched his future in purple and gold, they choked; and so they did if Judy put up her mouth for a kiss.Through many days all four were vagabonds on the face of the earth: Punch with no one to give orders to, Judy too young for anything, and Papa and Mamma grave, distracted, and choking."Where," demanded Punch, wearied of a loathsome contrivance on four wheels with a mound of luggage atop--"where is our broom-gharri? This thing talks so much that I can't talk. Where is our own broom-gharri? When I was at Bandstand before we comed away, I asked Inverarity Sahib why he was sitting in it, and he said it was his own. And I said, 'I will give it you'--I like Inverarity Sahib--and I said, 'Can you put your legs through the pully-wag loops by the windows? And Inverarity Sahib said No, and laughed. I can put my legs through the pully-wag loops. I can put my legs through these pully-wag loops. Look! Oh, Mamma's crying again! I did n't know. I was n't not to do so."Punch drew his legs out of the loops of the four-wheeler: the door opened and he slid to the earth, in a cascade of parcels, at the door of an austere little villa whose gates bore the legend "Downe Lodge." Punch gathered himself together and eyed the house with disfavour. It stood on a sandy road, and a cold wind tickled his knickerbockered legs."Let us go away," said Punch. "This is not a pretty place."But Mamma and Papa and Judy had quitted the cab, and all the luggage was being taken into the house. At the door-step stood a woman in black, and she smiled largely, with dry chapped lips. Behind her was a man, big, bony, gray, and lame as to one leg--behind him a boy of twelve, black-haired and oily in appearance. Punch surveyed the trio, and advanced without fear, as he had been accustomed to do in Bombay when callers came and he happened to be playing in the veranda."How do you do?" said he. "I am Punch." But they were all looking at the luggage--all except the gray man, who shook hands with Punch and said he was a "smart little fellow." There was much running about and banging of boxes, and Punch curled himself up on the sofa in the dining-room and considered things."I don't like these people," said Punch. "But never mind. We'll go away soon. We have always went away soon from everywhere. I wish we was gone back to Bombay soon."The wish bore no fruit. For six days Mamma wept at intervals, and showed the woman in black all Punch's clothes--a liberty which Punch resented. "But p'raps she's a new white ayah," he thought. "I'm to call her Antirosa, but she does n't call me Sahib. She says just Punch," he confided to Judy. "What is Antirosa?"Judy did n't know. Neither she nor Punch had heard anything of an animal called an aunt. Their world had been Papa and Mamma, who knew everything, permitted everything, and loved everybody--even Punch when he used to go into the garden at Bombay and fill his nails with mold after the weekly nail-cutting, because, as he explained between two strokes of the slipper to his sorely tried Father, his fingers "felt so new at the ends."In an undefined way Punch judged it advisable to keep both parents between himself and the woman in black and the boy in black hair. He did not approve of them. He liked the gray man, who had expressed a wish to be called "Uncleharri." They nodded at each other when they met, and the gray man showed him a little ship with rigging that took up and down."She is a model of the _Brisk_--the little _Brisk_ that was sore exposed that day at Navarino." The gray man hummed the last words and fell into a reverie. "I'll tell you about Navarino, Punch, when we go for walks together; and you must n't touch the ship, because she's the _Brisk_."Long before that walk, the first of many, was taken, they roused Punch and Judy in the chill dawn of a February morning to say Good-bye; and of all people in the wide earth to Papa and Mamma--both crying this time. Punch was very sleepy and Judy was cross."Don't forget us," pleaded Mamma. "Oh, my little son, don't forget us, and see that Judy remembers too.""I've told Judy to bemember," said Punch, wiggling, for his father's beard tickled his neck. "I've told Judy--ten--forty--'leven thousand times. But Ju 's so young--quite a baby--is n't she?""Yes," said Papa, "Quite a baby, and you must be good to Judy, and make haste to learn to write and--and--and----"Punch was back in his bed again. Judy was fast asleep, and there was the rattle of a cab below. Papa and Mamma had gone away. Not to Nassick; that was across the sea. To some place much nearer, of course, and equally of course they would return. They came back after dinner-parties, and Papa had come back after he had been to a place called "The Snows," and Mamma with him, to Punch and Judy at Mrs. Inverarity's house in Marine Lines. Assuredly they would come back again. So Punch fell asleep till the true morning, when the black-haired boy met him with the information that Papa and Mamma had gone to Bombay, and that he and Judy were to stay at Downe Lodge "forever." Antirosa, tearfully appealed to for a contradiction, said that Harry had spoken the truth, and that it behooved Punch to fold up his clothes neatly on going to bed. Punch went out and wept bitterly with Judy, into whose fair head he had driven some ideas of the meaning of separation.When a matured man discovers that he has been deserted by Providence, deprived of his God, and cast without help, comfort, or sympathy, upon a world which is new and strange to him, his despair, which may find expression in evil-living, the writing of his experiences, or the more satisfactory diversion of suicide, is generally supposed to be impressive. A child, under exactly similar circumstances as far as its knowledge goes, cannot very well curse God and die. It howls till its nose is red, its eyes are sore, and its head aches. Punch and Judy, through no fault of their own, had lost all their world. They sat in the hall and cried; the black-haired boy looking on from afar.The model of the ship availed nothing, though the gray man assured Punch that he might pull the rigging up and down as much as he pleased; and Judy was promised free entry into the kitchen. They wanted Papa and Mamma, gone to Bombay beyond the seas, and their grief while it lasted was without remedy.When the tears ceased the house was very still. Antirosa had decided it was better to let the children "have their cry out," and the boy had gone to school. Punch raised his head from the floor and sniffed mournfully. Judy was nearly asleep. Three short years had not taught her how to bear sorrow with full knowledge. There was a distant, dull boom in the air--a repeated heavy thud. Punch knew that sound in Bombay in the Monsoon. It was the sea--the sea that must be traversed before anyone could get to Bombay."Quick, Ju!" he cried, "we're close to the sea. I can hear it! Listen! That's where they've went. P'raps we can catch them if we was in time. They did n't mean to go without us. They've only forgot.""Iss," said Judy. "They've only forgotted. Less go to the sea."The hall-door was open and so was the garden-gate."It's very, very big, this place," he said, looking cautiously down the road, "and we will get lost; but I will find a man and order him to take me back to my house--like I did in Bombay."He took Judy by the hand, and the two fled hatless in the direction of the sound of the sea. Downe Villa was almost the last of a range of newly built houses running out, through a chaos of brick-mounds, to a heath where gypsies occasionally camped and where the Garrison Artillery of Rocklington practised. There were few people to be seen, and the children might have been taken for those of the soldiery, who ranged far. Half an hour the wearied little legs tramped across heath, potato-field, and sand-dune."I'se so tired," said Judy, "and Mamma will be angry.""Mamma's never angry. I suppose she is waiting at the sea now while Papa gets tickets. We'll find them and go along with them. Ju, you must n't sit down. Only a little more and we'll come to the sea. Ju, if you sit down I'll thmack you!" said Punch.They climbed another dune, and came upon the great gray sea at low tide. Hundreds of crabs were scuttling about the beach, but there was no trace of Papa and Mamma not even of a ship upon the waters--nothing but sand and mud for miles and miles.And "Uncleharri" found them by chance--very muddy and very forlorn--Punch dissolved in tears, but trying to divert Judy with an "ickle trab," and Judy wailing to the pitiless horizon for "Mamma, Mamma!"--and again "Mamma!"
THE SECOND BAG Ah, well-a-day, for we are souls bereaved!
Of all the creatures under Heaven's wide scope
We are most hopeless, who had once most hope,
And most beliefless, who had most believed.---The City of Dreadful Night.
All this time not a word about Black Sheep. He came later, and Harry, the black-haired boy, was mainly responsible for his coming. Judy--who could help loving little Judy?--passed, by special permit, into the kitchen and thence straight to Aunty Rosa's heart. Harry was Aunty Rosa's one child, and Punch was the extra boy about the house. There was no special place for him or his little affairs, and he was forbidden to sprawl on sofas and explain his ideas about the manufacture of this world and his hopes for his future. Sprawling was lazy and wore out sofas, and little boys were not expected to talk. They were talked to, and the talking to was intended for the benefit of their morals. As the unquestioned despot of the house at Bombay, Punch could not quite understand how he came to be of no account in this new life.Harry might reach across the table and take what he wanted; Judy might point and get what she wanted. Punch was forbidden to do either. The gray man was his great hope and stand-by for many months after Mamma and Papa left, and he had forgotten to tell Judy to "bemember Mamma."This lapse was excusable, because in the interval he had been introduced by Aunty Rosa to two very impressive things--an abstraction called God, the intimate friend and ally of Aunty Rosa, generally believed to live behind the kitchen-range because it was hot there--and a dirty brown book filled with unintelligible dots and marks. Punch was always anxious to oblige everybody. He, therefore, welded the story of the Creation on to what he could recollect of his Indian fairy tales, and scandalized Aunty Rosa by repeating the result to Judy. It was a sin, a grievous sin, and Punch was talked to for a quarter of an hour. He could not understand where the iniquity came in, but was careful not to repeat the offence, because Aunty Rosa told him that God had heard every word he had said and was very angry. If this were true why did n't God come and say so, thought Punch, and dismissed the matter from his mind. Afterward he learned to know the Lord as the only thing in the world more awful than Aunty Rosa--as a Creature that stood in the background and counted the strokes of the cane.But the reading was, just then, a much more serious matter than any creed. Aunty Rosa sat him upon a table and told him that A B meant ab."Why?" said Punch. "A is a and B is bee. Why does A B mean ab?""Because I tell you it does," said Aunty Rosa "and you've got to say it."Punch said it accordingly, and for a month, hugely against his will, stumbled through the brown book, not in the least comprehending what it meant. But Uncle Harry, who walked much and generally alone, was wont to come into the nursery and suggest to Aunty Rosa that Punch should walk with him. He seldom spoke, but he showed Punch all Rocklington, from the mud-banks and the sand of the back-bay to the great harbours where ships lay at anchor, and the dockyards where the hammers were never still, and the marine-store shops, and the shiny brass counters in the Offices where Uncle Harry went once every three months with a slip of blue paper and received sovereigns in exchange; for he held a wound-pension. Punch heard, too, from his lips the story of the battle of Navarino, where the sailors of the Fleet, for three days afterward, were deaf as posts and could only sign to each other. "That was because of the noise of the guns," said Uncle Harry, "and I have got the wadding of a bullet somewhere inside me now."Punch regarded him with curiosity. He had not the least idea what wadding was, and his notion of a bullet was a dockyard cannon-ball bigger than his own head. How could Uncle Harry keep a cannon-ball inside him? He was ashamed to ask, for fear Uncle Harry might be angry.Punch had never known what anger--real anger--meant until one terrible day when Harry had taken his paint-box to paint a boat with, and Punch had protested with a loud and lamentable voice. Then Uncle Harry had appeared on the scene and, muttering something about "strangers' children," had with a stick smitten the black-haired boy across the shoulders till he wept and yelled, and Aunty Rosa came in and abused Uncle Harry for cruelty to his own flesh and blood, and Punch shuddered to the tips of his shoes. "It was n't my fault," he explained to the boy, but both Harry and Aunty Rosa said that it was, and that Punch had told tales, and for a week there were no more walks with Uncle Harry.But that week brought a great joy to Punch.He had repeated till he was thrice weary the statement that "the Cat lay on the Mat and the Rat came in.""Now I can truly read," said Punch, "and now I will never read anything in the world."He put the brown book in the cupboard where his schoolbooks lived and accidentally tumbled out a venerable volume, without covers, labelled _Sharpe's Magazine_. There was the most portentous picture of a Griffin on the first page, with verses below. The Griffin carried off one sheep a day from a German village, till a man came with a "falchion" and split the Griffin open. Goodness only knew what a falchion was, but there was the Griffin, and his history was an improvement upon the eternal Cat."This," said Punch, "means things, and now I will know all about everything in all the world." He read till the light failed, not understanding a tithe of the meaning, but tantalized by glimpses of new worlds hereafter to be revealed."What is a 'falchion'? What is a 'e-wee lamb'? What is a 'base ussurper'? What is a 'verdant me-ad'? he demanded, with flushed cheeks, at bedtime, of the astonished Aunt Rosa."Say your prayers and go to sleep," she replied, and that was all the help Punch then or afterward found at her hands in the new and delightful exercise of reading."Aunt Rosa only knows about God and things like that," argued Punch. "Uncle Harry will tell me."The next walk proved that Uncle Harry could not help either; but he allowed Punch to talk, and even sat down on a bench to hear about the Griffin. Other walks brought other stories as Punch ranged farther afield, for the house held la