English Tales
| 1 › 1 › 28 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
The History of Jack Sprat, His Wife and His Cat
WHEN Jack Sprat was young,
He dressed very smart,
He courted Joan Cole,
And he gained her heart;
In his fine leather doublet,
And old greasy hat,
O what a smart fellow
Was little Jack Sprat.
Jack Sprat was the bridegroom,
Joan Cole was the bride,
Jack said, from the church
His Joan home should ride;
But no coach could take her,
The lane was so narrow,
Said Jack, then I'll take her
Home in a wheel-barrow.
As Jack Sprat was wheeling
His wife by the ditch,
The barrow turned over,
And in she did pitch.
Says Jack, "You'll be drowned!"
But Joan did reply,
'
"I don't think I shall,
For the ditch is quite dry."
Jack brought home his Joan,
And she sat on a chair,
When in came his cat,
That had got but one ear.
Says Joan, " I'm come home, puss,
Pray how do you do?"
The cat wagg'd her tail,
And said nothing but " Mew!"
Then Joan went to market,
To buy her some fowls,
She bought a jackdaw
And a couple of owls;
The owls they were white,
The jackdaw was black,
"They'll lay brindled eggs,"
Says little Joan Sprat.
Joan Sprat went to brewing
A barrel of ale,
She put in some hops
That it might not turn stale,
But as for the malt,
She forgot to put that,
"This is sober liquor,"
Says little Jack Sprat.
Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean,
And so between them both,
They lick'd the platter clean;
Jack eat all the lean,
Joan eat all the fat,
The bone they pick'd it clean,
Then gave it to the cat.
Jack Sprat went to market,
And bought him a mare,
She was lame of three legs,
And as blind as a bat,
Her ribs they were bare,
For the mare had no fat,
"She looks like a racer,"
Says little Jack Sprat.
Now I have told you the story
MR. and Mrs. Vinegar lived in a vinegar-bottle. Now one day, when Mr. Vinegar was from home, Mrs. Vinegar, who was a very good housewife, was busily sweeping her house, when an unlucky thump of the broom brought the whole house clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter about her ears. In floods of tears she rushed forth to meet her husband. On seeing him she exclaimed,
"Oh, Mr. Vinegar, Mr. Vinegar, we are ruined, we are ruined! I have knocked the house down, and it is all to pieces."
Mr. Vinegar then said, "My dear, let us see what can be done. Here is the door; I will take it on my back, and we will go forth to seek our fortune."
They walked all that day, and at nightfall entered a thick forest. They were both very tired, and Mr. Vinegar said,
"My love, I will climb up into a tree, drag up the door, and you shall follow."
This he did, and they both stretched their weary limbs upon the door, and fell fast asleep. In the middle of the night Mr. Vinegar was disturbed by the sound of voices beneath, and to his great dismay perceived that a party of thieves were met to divide their booty.
"Here, Jack," said one, " here's five pounds for you; here, Bill, here's ten pounds for you; here, Bob, here's three pounds for you."
Mr. Vinegar could listen no longer; his terror was so intense that he trembled most violently, and shook down the door on their heads. Away scampered the thieves, but Mr. Vinegar dared not quit his retreat till broad daylight.
He then scrambled out of the tree, and went to lift up the door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas!
"Come down, Mrs. Vinegar," he cried, "come down, I say; our fortune's made, our fortune's made! come down, I say."
Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could, and saw the money with equal delight.
"Now, my dear," said she, " I'll tell you what you shall do. There is a fair at the town hard by; you shall take these forty guineas and buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shall sell at market, and we shall then be able to live very comfortably."
Mr. Vinegar joyfully agrees, takes the money, and goes off to the fair. When he arrived, he walked up and down, and at length saw a beautiful red cow.
Oh! thought Mr. Vinegar, if I had but that cow I should be the happiest man alive. So he offers the forty guineas for the cow, and the owner declaring that, as he was a friend, he'd oblige him, the bargain was made. Proud of his purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards to show it. By-and-bye he saw a man playing the bagpipes tweedledum, tweedledee; the children followed him about, and he appeared to be pocketing money on all sides. Well, thought Mr. Vinegar, if I had but that beautiful instrument I should be the happiest man alive my fortune would be made.
So he went up to the man.
"Friend," says he, " what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of money you must make."
"Why, yes," said the man, "I make a great deal of money, to be sure, and it is a wonderful instrument."
"Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should like to possess it!"
"Well," said the man, "as you are a friend, I don't much mind parting with it; you shall have it for that red cow."
"Done," said the delighted Mr. Vinegar; so the beautiful red cow was given for the bagpipes.
He walked up and down with his purchase, but in vain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, the boys followed him hooting, laughing, and pelting.
Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and, heartily ashamed and mortified, he was leaving the town, when he met a man with a fine thick pair of gloves.
"Oh, my fingers are so very cold," said Mr. Vinegar to himself; "if I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest man alive."
He went up to the man, and said to him,
"Friend, you seem to have a capital pair of gloves there."
"Yes, truly," cried the man; "and my hands are as warm as possible this cold November day."
"Well," said Mr. Vinegar, "I should like to have them."
"What will you give?" said the man; "as you are a friend, I don't much mind letting you have them for those bagpipes."
"Done," cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectly happy as he trudged homewards.
At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming towards him with a good stout stick in his hand. " Oh," said Mr. Vinegar, " if I had but that stick I should then be the happiest man alive!"
He went up to the man.
"Friend, what a rare good stick you have got."
"Yes," said the man, "I have used it for many a long mile, and a good friend it has been; but if you have a fancy for it, as you are a friend, I don't mind giving it to you for that pair of gloves."
Mr. Vinegar's hands were so warm, and his legs so tired, that he gladly exchanged.
As he drew near to the wood where he had left his wife, he heard a parrot on a tree calling out his name,
"Mr. Vinegar, you foolish man, you blockhead, you simpleton! you went to the fair, and laid out all your money in buying a cow; not content with that you changed it for bagpipes, on which you could not play, and which were not worth one-tenth of the money. Then you had no sooner got the bagpipes than you changed them for the gloves, which were not worth one-quarter of the money; and when you had got the gloves, you changed them for a miserable walking stick, and now for your forty guineas, cow, bagpipes, and gloves, you have nothing to show but a stick, which you might have cut in any hedge."
On this the bird laughed, and laughed again, and Mr. Vinegar, falling into a violent rage, threw the stick at its head. The stick lodged in the tree, and he returned to his wife without money, cow, bagpipes, gloves, or stick, and she instantly gave him such a sound cudgelling that she almost broke every bone in his sour skin.
A long time ago there lived in a town in Herefordshire a baker who used to sell bread to all the folk around. He was a mean, greedy man, who sought in every way to put money by, and who did not scruple to cheat such people as he was able when they came to his shop.
He had a daughter who helped him in his business, being unmarried and living with him, and seeing how her father treated the people, and how he succeeded in getting money by his bad practices, she, too, in time came to do the like.
One day when her father was away, and the girl remained alone in the shop, an old woman came in.
"My pretty girl," said she, "give me a bit of dough I beg of you, for I am old and hungry."
The girl at first told her to be off, but as the old woman would not go, and begged harder than before for a piece of bread, at last the baker's daughter took up a piece of dough, and giving it to her, saying, "There now, be off, and do not trouble me any more."
"My dear," says the woman, "you have given me a piece of dough, let me bake it in your oven, for I have no place of my own to bake it in."
"Very well," replied the girl, and, taking the dough, she placed it in the oven, while the old woman sat down to wait till it was baked.
When the girl thought the bread should be ready she looked in the oven expecting to find there a small cake, and was very much amazed to find instead a very large loaf of bread. She pretended to look about the oven as if in search of something.
"I cannot find the cake," said she. "It must have tumbled into the fire and got burnt."
"Very well," said the old woman, "give me another piece of dough instead and I will wait while it bakes."
So the girl took another piece of dough, smaller than the first piece, and having put it in the oven, shut to the door. At the end of a few minutes or so she looked in again, and found there another loaf, larger than the last.
"Dear me," said she, pretending to look about her, "I have surely lost the dough again. There 's no cake here."
"'Tis a pity," said the old woman, "but never mind. I will wait while you bake me another piece."
So the baker's daughter took a piece of dough as small as one of her fingers and put it in the oven, while the old woman sat near. When she thought it ought to be baked, she looked into the oven and there saw a loaf, larger than either of the others.
"That is mine," said the old woman.
"No," replied the girl. "How could such a large loaf have grown out of a little piece of dough?"
"It is mine, it is sure," said the woman.
"It is not," said the girl, "and you shall not have it."
Well, when the old woman saw that the girl would not give her the loaf, and saw how she had tried to cheat her, for she was a fairy, and knew all the tricks that the baker's daughter had put upon her, she draws out from under her cloak a stick, and just touches the girl with it. Then a wonderful thing occurred, for the girl became all of a sudden changed into an owl, and flying about the room, at last, made for the door, and, finding it open, she flew out and was never seen again.
[From Charles J. Tibbits. Folk-lore and Legends: England and Scotland (1894)]
Of little Jack Sprat,
of little Joan Cole,
And the one-ear'd cat.
If you'd know any more,
You may tell it yourself.
Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar
The Baker's Daughter
Literature
USER'S GUIDE to abbreviations, the site's bibliography, letter codes, dictionaries, site design and navigation, tips for searching the site and page referrals. [LINK]
© 2007-2009, Selected and retold by Tormod Kinnes. [E-MAIL] — Disclaimer: LINK]