Not a full chant, but I can remember my grandma [born 1897] saying "come, butter, come' over and over again. This was in Crewe, Cheshire - railway town - in the late 1950s. She had a very big glass jar with a metal lid, through which there was a sort of paddle, and a mechanism on top with a handle. I recall being asked to turn the handle - dull work for a small child, but the butter was worth it. Magic!