Now it was near dinner time, and he had not even got
butter yet. So he thought he’d best boil
the porridge, and he filled the pot with water, and
hung it over the fire. When he had done that,
he thought the cow might perhaps fall off the thatch
and break her legs or her neck. So he got up
on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope
he made fast to the cow’s neck, and the other
he slipped down the chimney and tied round his own
waist. He had to make haste, for the water now
began to boil in the pot, and he had still to grind
the oatmeal.
So he began to grind away; but while he was hard at
it, down fell the cow off the housetop after all,
and as she fell she dragged the man up the chimney
by the rope. There he stuck fast. And as
for the cow, she hung halfway down the wall, swinging
between heaven and earth, for she could neither get
down nor up.
And now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven
breadths for her husband to come and call them home
to dinner, but never a call they had. At last
she thought she’d waited long enough and went
home.
When she got there and saw the cow hanging in such
an ugly place, she ran up and cut the rope in two
with her scythe. But as she did this, down came
her husband out of the chimney, and so when his old
dame came inside the kitchen, there she found him
standing on his head in the porridge pot.
Once there was a farmer who had an only son.
The lad had had very poor health so he could not go
out to work in the field.
His name was Freddy, but, since he remained such a
wee bit of a fellow, they called him Little Freddy.
At home there was but little to eat and nothing at
all to burn, so his father went about the country trying
to get the boy a place as cowherd or errand boy; but
there was no one who would take the weakly little
lad till they came to the sheriff. He was ready
to take him, for he had just sent off his errand boy,
and there was no one who would fill his place, for
everybody knew the sheriff was a great miser.
But the farmer thought it was better there than nowhere;
he would get his food, for all the pay he was to get
was his board—there was nothing said about
wages or clothes. When the lad had served three
years he wanted to leave, and the sheriff gave him
all his wages at one time. He was to have a penny
a year. “It couldn’t well be less,”
said the sheriff. And so he got three pence in
all.
As for Little Freddy, he thought it was a great sum,
for he had never owned so much; but, for all that,
he asked if he wasn’t to have anything for clothes,
for those he had on were worn to rags. He had
not had any new ones since he came to the sheriff’s
three years ago.
“You have what we agreed on,” said the
sheriff, “and three whole pennies besides.
I have nothing more to do with you. Be off!”
