A Bag Of Moonshine. Alan Garner
“Here am I,
a grey goat.
Lost are my kind kids.
Back and to I go.
Dark is the night
till I find them.”
But the gull said:
“By earth that is under,
by air that is over,
I have not seen your kids.”
The grey goat went on, until she met a crow at a gate, and she said:
“Here am I,
a grey goat.
Lost are my kind kids.
Back and to I go.
Dark is the night
till I find them.”
But the crow said:
“By earth that is under,
by air that is over,
I have not seen your kids.”
So the grey goat went on, until she came to the house of a fox; and she stood on the roof. The fox looked out of the window, and said:
“It grows dim here.
My pot will not boil.
My cake will not bake.
My child will not go to the well.
Who is on top?”
And the grey goat said:
“Here am I,
a grey goat.
Lost are my kind kids.
Back and to I go.
Dark is the night
till I find them.”
But the fox said:
“By thorn and by fire,
by earth that is under, by star and by storm, I have not seen your kids.”
The grey goat said, “Even so, let me in.” So the fox let her in. And the grey goat looked all around, and said:
“No food on the shelf.
No meal in the pot. Yet here’s a fat fox, not a lean one.”
And the fox said again:
“By thorn and by fire,
by earth that is under,
by star and by storm,
I have not seen your kids.
Never. Never.
I have not seen your kids.”
But the grey goat looked all around, and said:
“No food on the shelf—”
And a voice called out, “Mother!”
And the grey goat said:
“No meal in the pot—”
And a voice called out, “Mother! Mother!”
And the grey goat said:
“Yet here’s a fat fox,
not a lean one!”
And a voice called out, “Mother! Mother! Mother!”
Then the grey goat took an axe, and killed the fox; and inside the fox were the three kids; and they threw the fox on to the midden and all went home together.
Now it would be fine indeed if there were more; but there is not.
One winter’s day, Tom Poker went out chopping wood. (It was a hard winter, and times were bad.)
He’d not gone far when he trod on some ice; and he slipped and he fell, and it took his breath away. Tom Poker said to the ice, “Ice, ice,” said Tom Poker, “you’ve knocked me down. You must be strong.”
“I am,” said the ice. “You may depend on it.”
“But when the sun comes, you run away,” said Tom Poker.
“Oh,” said the ice, “that’s very true.”
“Well, then,” said Tom Poker; “sun is stronger.”
And the ice said, “He is, seemingly.”
Tom Poker said to the sun, “Sun, sun,” said Tom Poker, “are you strong?”
“I am,” said the sun. “You may depend on it.”
“But when cloud comes, you hide,” said Tom Poker.
“Oh,” said the sun, “that’s very true.”
“Well, then,” said Tom Poker; “cloud is stronger.”
And the sun said, “She is, seemingly.”
Tom Poker said to the cloud, “Cloud, cloud,” said Tom Poker, “are you strong?”
“I am,” said the cloud. “You may depend on it.”
“But when wind comes, you’re blown to bits,” said Tom Poker.
“Oh,” said the cloud, “that’s very true.”
“Well, then,” said Tom Poker; “wind is stronger.”
And the cloud said, “She is, seemingly.”
Tom Poker said to the wind, “Wind, wind,” said Tom Poker, “are you strong?”
“I am,” said the wind. “You may depend on it.”
“But can you shift hill?” said Tom Poker.
“I can’t,” said the wind. “That’s very true.”
“Well, then,” said Tom Poker; “hill is stronger.”
And the wind said, “He is, seemingly.”
Tom Poker said to the hill, “Hill, hill,” said Tom Poker, “are you strong?”
“I am,” said the hill. “You may depend on it.”
“But can you stand on tree?” said Tom Poker.
“I can’t,” said the hill.
“But tree can stand on you,” said Tom Poker.
“She can,” said the hill. “That’s very true.”
“Well, then,” said Tom Poker; “tree is stronger.”