Give a little whistle, whoo hoo

Clap your hands.   They'll dance.

Whistle when they're bright.   They'll swoop down to scoop you away into the Heavens. 

Mom grew up in northern Newfoundland with three sisters and four brothers.  Among many things they believed the above two tales of the Northern Lights to be true.  As kids they'd stand outside quietly looking up at the winter sky.  Someone would clap or whistle and cause  a stampede of screaming kids to run into the house,  afraid to stay out to test if the tale was fact or fiction.  If the Lights became extremely bright or began dancing wildly, well, that only added to the screams and running speed.  Merv, Hope, Sarah, Kie, Ange, Dex, Gene and Jan are all still here to tell the stories so we'll never know what might have happened if one of them hadn't made it indoors.

I've a feeling it was most likely my Grandfather doing the clapping or whistling just to watch the group skitter along.  Perhaps not.  But I remember Grandpa being devious.  One need only look for the telltale glint in his blue eyes.  Then came a grin which soon gave way to a hearty laugh.  Yes b'y.  Yes maid.  He was a funny one dat one.