Unfinished Stories
folktales of Aarne-Thompson types
2250, 2251, 2260, 2271, and 2300
translated and/or edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 2000
folktales of Aarne-Thompson types
2250, 2251, 2260, 2271, and 2300
translated and/or edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 2000
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Three wise men of Gotham, They went to sea in a bowl; And if the bowl had been stronger, My tale had been longer. |
There was a shepherd once who went out to the hill to look after his sheep. It was misty and cold, and he had much trouble to find them. At last he had them all but one; and after much searching he found that one too in a peat hag [bog] half drowned. So he took off his plaid, and bent down and took hold of the sheep's tail, and he pulled! The sheep was heavy with water, and he could not lift her, so he took off his coat, and he pulled!! But it was too much for him, and he spit on his hands, and took a good hold of the tail and he PULLED!! And the tail broke! And if it had not been for that, this tale would have been a great deal longer.
Once upon a time a little boy was walking down a road. After he had gone a piece he found a chest. "For sure there is something rare in this chest," he said to himself. But however he examined it, he found no way to open it. "That is very strange," he thought.
When he had gone on a piece he found a little key. So he stopped and sat down, and he thought it would be good if the key fit the chest, for there was a little keyhole in it. So he put the little key into his pocket. First he blew into the key's shaft. Then he blew into the keyhole. Then he put the key into the keyhole and turned it around. "Snap!" went the lock. And then he took hold of the lock, and the chest opened.
And can you guess what was in the chest? --
It was a calf's tail.
And if the calf's tail had been longer, this tale would have been longer as well.
A peasant plowed once around, and he found nothing at all. Then he plowed around again, and he found a chest. Then he plowed around once again, and he found a key to the chest. He opened the chest and found nothing but mouse tails in it. And if the mouse tails had been longer, my story would have been longer.
Once in the wintertime when the snow was very deep, a poor boy had to go out and fetch wood on a sled. After he had gathered it together and loaded it, he did not want to go straight home, because he was so frozen, but instead to make a fire and warm himself a little first. So he scraped the snow away, and while he was thus clearing the ground he found a small golden key. Now he believed that where there was a key, there must also be a lock, so he dug in the ground and found a little iron chest. "If only the key fits!" he thought. "Certainly there are valuable things in the chest." He looked, but there was no keyhole. Finally he found one, but so small that it could scarcely be seen. He tried the key, and fortunately it fitted. Then he turned it once, and now we must wait until he has finished unlocking it and has opened the lid. Then we shall find out what kind of wonderful things there were in the little chest.
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I'll tell you a story About Jack a Nory, And now my story's begun. I'll tell you another About Jack and his brother, And now my story's done. |
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who had a large, large herd of sheep which he was moving over hill and dale, far out into the world. They came to a deep body of water, over which there was fortunately a bridge. However, the bridge was tiny and narrow, so that only a single sheep could go across it. And another sheep could not even step onto the bridge until the sheep in front was all the way across, or the bridge certainly would have broken. Just think how long it will take until all of the many, many sheep have crossed over.
So, you see, we must wait until they are all on the other side with the shepherd, and that will take a while yet, and then I will continue with my story about the shepherd and his large, large herd of sheep.
Messer Azzolino had a storyteller whom he made tell him tales during the long nights of winter. It happened that one night the storyteller had a great desire to sleep, while Azzolino urged him to tell tales.
The storyteller began a tale of a countryman who had a hundred byzantines [ancient coins] of his own which he took with him to the market to buy sheep at the price of two per byzantine. Returning with his sheep he came to a river he had passed before much swollen with the rains which had recently fallen. Standing on the bank, he saw a poor fisherman with a boat, but of so small a size that there was only room for the countryman and one sheep at a time. Then the countryman began to cross over with one sheep, and he began to row. The river was wide. He rowed and passed over.
And here the storyteller ceased his tale.
Azzolino said, "Go on!"
And the storyteller replied, "Let the sheep cross over, and then I will tell you the tale."
Since the sheep would not have crossed in a year, he could meanwhile sleep at his ease.
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who went to feed his sheep in the fields, and he had to cross a stream, and he took the sheep up one by one to carry them over....
What then? Go on!
When the sheep are over, I will finish the story.
Revised January 8, 2000.