COULD you tell me where she word busk comes from, writes Mary White from Raheny, to which I must reply, which husk, Mary?
If you mean the verb to play music in the streets for money, to busk may be from the Italian buscare, a word John Florio, lexicographer and adviser on cultural, and possibly other matters, to James the First's Queen, Anne of Denmark, has in his great dictionary. To him it meant to prowle, to filch, to shift for. Then again it may be from the Spanish buscar, to seek, from Old Spanish boscar, perhaps originally to hunt by beating a wood (bosco). This is Oxford's guess. Another cognate word is the Old French busquer, to shift, prowle, according to the 17th century Cotgrave, who had read Florio.
What in God's name has this to do with playing music on the streets?
Well, as late as the 19th century to husk meant to get money by any means which would prevent a policeman from saying you were begging. You could busk, or be a busker, by singing or dancing or playing music, by selling matches or flowers, or by cutting silhouettes in pubs, a favourite form of busking according to Mayhew in 1851. Collins says that busk, to play music, is a 20th century word. Really?
The late Mike Flynn of Kilmore, Co Wexford told me once that a husker was a fisherman who went to sea in all weathers. Mike's mother used to make husks for them at Shrovetide. These were buns made from white flour, cinnamon and sugar.
Another Wexford busk would be known in other parts as a bodhran, traditional tambourine.
Phil Wall of Carne, who was 90 when I met him in the late sixties called a milksop a husker. Interestingly, in Devon and Dorset a husker is, or was, a calf left too long unweaned.
Then there is busk, a bush in Norfolk, a bunch of flowers in west Waterford. Old Norse buskr.
To husk in Ayrshire still means to dress, deck out, adorn. A bonny bride is soon busked. This is from Old Norse buask, to make oneself ready, from bua, to prepare.
Finally husk, a stiffener in an old fashioned corset is from Old Italian busco, a splinter, a stick. In Cornwall, I'm reliably informed, it means something else as well. You can guess what, Mary White. I'm not going to be the one to corrupt you.