Faery Tales

by Carol Ann Duffy

  When this happened, all three were delighted. The Huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with its pelt. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine and soon began to feel much better. And Little Red-Cap promised herself, ‘Never so long as I live will I wander off the path into the woods when my mother has warned me not to.’

  Two Households

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To Walpe.’

  ‘You to Walpe, me to Walpe, knyd, knyd, together we’ll go.’

  ‘Got a man? What’s his name?’

  ‘Dan.’

  ‘Your man Dan, my man Dan, you to Walpe, me to Walpe, knyd, knyd, together we’ll go.’

  ‘Got a child? How’s he styled?’

  ‘Wild.’

  ‘Your child Wild, my child Wild, your man Dan, my man Dan, you to Walpe, me to Walpe, knyd, knyd, together we’ll go.’

  ‘Got a cradle? What’s its label?’

  ‘Hippodadle.’

  ‘Your cradle Hippodadle, my cradle Hippodadle, your child Wild, my child Wild, your man Dan, my man Dan, you to Walpe, me to Walpe, knyd, knyd, together we’ll go.’

  ‘Got a servant? What’s his title?’

  ‘Stay-a-Bed Bone-Idle.’

  ‘Your servant Stay-a-Bed Bone-Idle, my servant, Stay-a-Bed Bone-Idle, your cradle Hippodadle, my cradle Hippodadle, your child Wild, my child Wild, your man Dan, my man Dan, you to Walpe, me to Walpe, knyd, knyd, together we’ll go.’

  The Fox and the Geese

  One day the fox came to a meadow and there sat a flock of fine geese. The fox smiled and said, ‘My timing is perfect. There you are all sitting together quite beautifully, so that I can eat you up one after the other.’ The geese cackled with terror, jumped up and began to wail and plead piteously for their lives. But the fox would have none of it and said, ‘Begging is useless. There is no mercy to be had. You must die.’

  At last, one of the geese stepped up and said, ‘If we poor geese are to lose our healthy young lives, then please allow us one last prayer so that we do not die with our sins on our conscience. One final prayer and then we will line up in a row so that you can always pick the plumpest first.’

  The fox thought, ‘Yes, that’s a reasonable request, and a pious one too.’

  ‘Pray away, geese. I’ll wait till you are finished.’

  So the first goose began a good long prayer, for ever saying ‘Ga! Ga!’ and, as she wouldn’t stop, the second didn’t wait her turn but started praying away also. ‘Ga! Ga!’ The third and the fourth followed her – ‘Ga! Ga!’ – and soon they were all praying and honking and cackling together.

  When they have finished their prayers, this story shall be continued further, but at the moment they are still very busy praying. ‘Ga! Ga! Ga! Ga! Ga! Ga!’

  Clever Hans

  Hans’s mother said, ‘Where are you off to Hans?’ Hans said, ‘To see Gretel.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What have you brought that’s good?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want to have something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a needle. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay cart, follows the cart home. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘Gave me a needle.’ ‘Where is the needle, Hans?’ ‘Stuck in the hay cart.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have stuck the needle in your sleeve.’ ‘Not to worry. Do better next time.’

  ‘Where are you off to, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel’s, Mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What have you brought that’s good?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want to have something given to me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a knife. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans takes the knife, sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nowt. Got given something.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘Gave me a knife.’ ‘Where is the knife, Hans?’ ‘Stuck in my sleeve.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have put the knife in your pocket.’ ‘Not to worry. Do better next time.’

  ‘Where are you off to, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, Mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a young goat.

  Hans takes the goat, ties its legs and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home it has suffocated. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nowt. Got given something.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘She gave me a goat.’ ‘Where is the goat, Hans?’ ‘Put it in my pocket.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have put a rope round the goat’s neck.’ ‘Not to worry. Do better next time.’

  ‘Where are you off to, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, Mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a piece of bacon. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope and drags it away behind him. The dogs come sniffing and scoff the bacon. When he gets home he has the rope in his hand with nothing at the end of it. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nowt. Got given something.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘Gave me a bit of bacon.’ ‘Where is the bacon, Hans?’ ‘I tied it to a rope, pulled it home. Dogs had it.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have carried the bacon on your head.’ ‘Not to worry. Do better next time.’

  ‘Where are you off to, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, Mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What have you brought me that’s good?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a calf. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans takes the calf and puts it on his head. The calf gives his face a kicking. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nowt. Got given something.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘A calf.’ ‘Where is the calf, Hans?’ ‘I put it on my head and it kicked my face.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have led the calf and put it in the stable.’ ‘Not to worry. Do better next time.’

  ‘Where are you off to, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, Mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, Mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’

  Hans goes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?’ ‘I’ve brought nowt. I want something given me.’ Gretel says to Hans, ‘I will come with you.’

  Hans takes Gretel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the stable and binds her tight. Then Hans goes to his mother. ‘Good evening, Mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘I took her nowt.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘She gave me nowt. She came back with me.’ ‘Where have you left Gretel?’ ‘I led her by the rope, tied her up in the stable, and scattered a bit of grass for her.’ ‘That was poorly done, Hans. You should have cast warm eyes on her.’ ‘Not to worry. Will do better.’

  Hans marched into the stable, cut out all the calves’ and sheep’s eyes, and threw them in Gre
tel’s face. Then Gretel became very angry, tore herself loose and ran away. Gretel was finished with Hans.

  Knoist and His Three Sons

  Somewhere between Werrel and Soist lived a bloke whose name was Knoist and he had three sons. One was blind, the other was lame and the third was stark bollock-naked. Once upon a time, they went into a field and there they saw a hare. The blind one shot it, the lame one caught it and the naked one put it in his pocket. Then they came to a mighty great lake, upon which three boats bobbed.

  One sailed, the other sank, and the third had no bottom. All three lads got into the one with no bottom. Then they came to a mighty great forest in the middle of which was a mighty great tree in the middle of which was a mighty great church. Inside the church was a sexton made of beech wood and a parson made of box wood, and the pair of them sprinkled out holy water with cudgels.

  ‘He’ll be happy if he’s the one

  ‘Who can from Holy Water run.’

  Sweet Porridge

  Once upon a different time there was a very good little girl who lived with her mother; but they were so poor they had nothing left to eat. So the little girl went into the forest. An old woman met her, who knew of her troubles. She gave her a small pot which when she said, ‘Cook, little pot, cook!’ would cook sweet and nourishing porridge. When she said ‘Stop, little pot!’ it would stop cooking.

  The girl took the pot home to her mother and from then on they were no longer hungry and ate good sweet porridge whenever they wanted.

  One day, when the little girl had gone out, her mother said, ‘Cook, little pot, cook!’ And it cooked away and she ate till she was quite full up. She wanted the pot to stop cooking then, but she didn’t know the words. So it carried on cooking, cooking, until the porridge spilled over the brim; and it carried on cooking, cooking, until the kitchen was full, then the whole house, then the house next door, then the whole street; and it carried on cooking, cooking, as though it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world. It caused the greatest inconvenience and distress, but no one knew how to stop it.

  At last, when there was only one single house left, like one spud on a plate, the little girl came home and said, ‘Stop, little pot!’ And it stopped and gave up cooking. But anyone who wanted to return to the town had to eat their way back in.

  The Hare and the Hedgehog

  This tale, my splendid young listeners, may seem to you to be false, but it really is true, because I heard it from my grandfather, and when he told it he always said, ‘It must be true, my dear, or else no one could tell it to you.’ This is the story.

  One Sunday morning around harvest time, just as the buckwheat was blooming, the sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, the larks were singing, the bees were buzzing, the folk were off to church in their Sunday best, everything that lived was happy and the hedgehog was happy too.

  The hedgehog was stood by his own front door, arms akimbo, relishing the morning and singing a song to himself half-aloud. It was no better or worse a song than the songs which hedgehogs usually sing on a Sabbath morning. His wife was inside, washing and drying the children, and he suddenly decided that he’d take a stroll in the field and see how his turnips were doing. The turnips grew beside the hedgehog’s house and the hedgehog family were accustomed to eating them – because of this he thought of them as his own. The hedgehog clicked shut his front door and set off for the field. He hadn’t gone very far, and was just turning round the sloe bush, which grows outside the field, to go up into the turnip field, when he noticed the hare. The hare was out and about on a similar errand to visit his cabbages. The hedgehog called out a friendly good morning. But the hare, a distinguished gentleman in his own way, was hoity-toity and gave the hedgehog a snooty look. He didn’t say good morning back, but spoke in a very contemptuous manner:

  ‘What brings you scampering about in the field so early in the morning?’

  ‘I’m taking a walk,’ said the hedgehog.

  ‘A walk!’ said the hare with a haughty sneer. ‘Surely you can think of a better use for those legs of yours.’

  These words made the hedgehog livid with rage, for he couldn’t bear any reference to his legs, which are naturally crooked.

  The hedgehog said, ‘You seem to think you can do more with your legs than I can with mine.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I think.’

  ‘That can soon be put to the test. I’ll bet that if we run a race, I shall beat you.’

  ‘That’s preposterous! With those hedgehoggy legs! Well, I’m perfectly willing if you have such an absurd fancy for it. What shall we wager?’

  ‘A golden sovereign and a bottle of brandy.’

  ‘Done. Shake paws on it. We might as well do it at once.’

  But the hedgehog said, ‘Nay, nay, there’s no rush. I’m going home for some breakfast. I’ll be back at this spot in half an hour.’

  The hare was quite satisfied with this, so the hedgehog set off home. On his way he thought to himself, ‘The hare is betting on his long legs, but I’ll get the better of him. He may be an important gentleman, but he’s a foolish fellow and he’ll pay for what he’s said.’

  When the hedgehog got back home, he called to his wife, ‘Wife, dress yourself quickly. You’ve got to come up to the field with me.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ said his wife. ‘I’ve made a wager with the hare for a gold sovereign and a bottle of brandy, and we have to race each other. You must be there.’

  But his wife was aghast. ‘Husband, are you not right in the head? Have you completely lost your marbles? What are you thinking of, running a race with the hare?’

  The hedgehog snapped, ‘Hold your tongue, woman, that’s my affair. Don’t try to discuss things which are matters for men. Now get yourself dressed and come with me.’

  What else was the wife of a hedgehog to do? She had to obey him, like it or like it not.

  So they set off together and the hedgehog told his wife, ‘Pay attention to what I’m saying. The long field will be our racecourse. I’ll run in one furrow and the hare in the other. We’ll start from the top. You position yourself at the bottom of the furrow. When the hare arrives at the end of the furrow next to you, just shout out, “I’m here already.”’

  They reached the field. The hedgehog showed his wife her place, then walked up top to meet the hare.

  ‘Shall we start then?’ said the hare.

  ‘Ready when you are,’ said the hedgehog.

  ‘Then both at once.’

  They each got in their furrow. The hare counted, ‘Once. Twice. Thrice and away!’ and flew off at the speed of arrogance down the field. But the hedgehog only ran three steps, then crouched down, quiet and sleekit in his furrow.

  As soon as the hare arrived full pelt at the bottom of the field, the hedgehog’s wife was already there saying, ‘I’m here already.’ The hare was flabbergasted. He thought it really was the hedgehog because the wife looked just like her husband. But he thought, ‘This hasn’t been done fairly.’ He said, ‘We must run again. Let us do it now.’ And a second time he whooshed off like a whirlwind. But the hedgehog’s wife stayed prettily in her place and when the hare reached the other end of the field, there was the hedgehog himself crying out, ‘I’m here already!’ The hare was hopping with fury, and kept saying, ‘Again! Again! We must run it again!’ The hedgehog said, ‘Fine. I’m happy to run as often as you choose.’

  The hare ran another seventy-three times. Each time, the hedgehog tricked him. Every time the hare reached one end of the field, the hedgehog or his wife said, ‘I’m here already.’ But at the seventy-fourth time, the hare couldn’t make it to the end. He collapsed in the middle of the field and a ribbon of blood streamed from his mouth. The hare was dead. The hedgehog ran up and took the gold sovereign, which he had won, and the bottle of brandy. He called his wife out of the furrow and the pair of them strolled home on their eight legs in great delight. If they’re not dead, they’re still living there.

  The mor
al of this story is, firstly, that no matter how grand a person might be, they should not poke fun at anyone beneath themselves – not even a hedgehog. Secondly, it shows that a man should marry someone in his own position, who looks just like he looks himself. Whoever is a hedgehog must make quite sure that his wife is a hedgehog as well. And so on. And forth. Or fifth.

  Travelling

  A poor woman had a son and the son longed to travel. But his mother said, ‘How can you go travelling? We have no money for you to take with you.’

  Then the son said, ‘I will manage very well for myself. I will always say “Not much, not much”.’ So he walked for a long time and always said, ‘Not much, not much, not much.’ Then he passed by a group of fishermen and said, ‘Good luck to you. Not much, not much, not much.’

  And when the net was hauled in, they hadn’t caught much fish. So one of them grabbed the youth and waved his stick and said, ‘Do you want to feel the end of this?’

  ‘What should I have said, then?’ asked the youth.

  ‘You must say “Lots more, lots more”.’

  After this, he walked on for a long time, saying, ‘Lots more, lots more,’ until he came to the gallows where they were about to hang a poor sinner. He called out, ‘Good morning. Lots more, lots more.’

  ‘What did you say, big mouth, lots more? Do you want to make out there are more wicked people to hang? Isn’t this enough?’ He got some more thwacks on his back.