Great Australian Stories Read online

  So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they met Goosey-poosey. ‘Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles?’ said Goosey-poosey. ‘Oh! we’re going to tell the king the sky’s a-falling,’ said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky and Ducky-daddles. ‘May I come with you?’ said Goosey-poosey. ‘Certainly,’ said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.

  So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they met Turkey-lurkey. ‘Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?’ says Turkey-lurkey. ‘Oh! we’re going to tell the king the sky’s a-falling,’ said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. ‘May I come with you, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?’ said Turkey-lurkey. ‘Oh, certainly, Turkey-lurkey,’ said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey all went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.

  So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they met Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey, ‘Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey?’ And Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey said to Foxy-woxy: ‘We‘re going to tell the king the sky’s a-falling.’

  ‘Oh! But this is not the way to the king, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey,’ says Foxy-woxy; ‘I know the proper way; shall I show it you?’

  ‘Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy,’ said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxy all went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.

  So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they came to a narrow and dark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy’s cave. But Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey, ‘This is the short way to the king’s palace: you’ll soon get there if you follow me. I will go first and you come after, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey.’ ‘Why of course, certainly, without doubt, why not?’ said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey.

  So Foxy-woxy went into his cave, and he didn’t go very far, but turned round to wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So at last at first Turkey-lurkey went through the dark hole into the cave. He hadn’t got far when ‘Hrumph,’ Foxy-woxy snapped off Turkey-lurkey’s head and threw his body over his left shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in, and ‘Hrumph,’ off went her head and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside Turkey-lurkey. Then Ducky-daddles waddled down, and ‘Hrumph,’ snapped Foxy-woxy, and Ducky-daddles’ head was off and Ducky-daddles was thrown alongside Turkey-lurkey and Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky strutted down into the cave, and he hadn’t gone far when ‘Snap, Hrumph!’ went Foxy-woxy and Cocky-locky was thrown alongside of Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, and Ducky-daddles.

  But Foxy-woxy had made two bites at Cocky-locky, and when the first snap only hurt Cocky-locky, but didn’t kill him, he called out to Henny-penny. But she turned tail and off she ran home, so she never told the king the sky was a-falling.

  The witch’s tale

  Simon McDonald was a bushman-musician who lived in a slab hut in rural Victoria and performed traditional songs and folk tales. In 1967, folklorists Hugh and Dawn Anderson recorded him spinning, from many Irish wonder tales, this magical saga, which he Australianised as he went with bush slang and interspersed comments. By turns serious and tongue-in-cheek, McDonald mixed shape shifting, cannibalism and sorcery to make something entirely new. Stories like this are a hint of what fairy tales were in the days when they were still adult entertainments.

  In the Underworld—well, what that means I don’t even know, because there was no underworld in those days, but these witches lived underground, that’s how it was called, and the underworld these days is a crook business, isn’t it? But not those days, and there was a great horse there called Black Entire. He was worth a thousand pounds, and that was a lot of money. And no one could get it and they were all out trying to pinch him.

  There was an old woman there—I don’t know what her name was, but she had three sons, Pat and Jack and Jim. They lived with her and she used to go out scrubbing and washing every day till she said, ‘Well, I can’t feed you no longer, you got to go out in the world and earn your own living.’ So they said, ‘Well, we don’t know, Mother, we don’t like leaving you.’ ‘Oh, well,’ she said, ‘we’ll play a game of cards.’ Those days you played a game of cards and if you had a wish, whoever had the wish won and you’d have to carry out that wish—oh, yes, it would be disgraceful—whatever the wish was, it had to be carried on.

  So they put the cards on the table, and I think Jim won the first wish. ‘Right!’ he said. ‘I won this,’ he said. ‘Plenty to eat and drink on the table.’ That was his wish. The old mother was sitting there with them. Anyhow, the next game of cards they played again, Pat won. ‘Plenty to eat and drink on the table’ was his wish. Jack won the third and Jack said, ‘I’ll leave my wish till last, if you don’t mind.’ There was a law them days that you could leave your wish till last.

  Then the fourth one, the old woman won, the mother. She said, ‘Look, I wish that you never sleep two nights in the one place or have two feeds on the one spot till you bring back to me the Black Entire from Bryan O’Ville in the Underworld.’ It was the most famous horse was ever known in Ireland. It was owned by three witches, and nobody ever come back alive that ever went for it, you see, or tried to get it off them.

  So ‘Righto, Mother,’ they said. Well, Jack said, ‘Now I’ve left my wish till last.’ He said, ‘Now, what I wish [is] you’d get up on that steeple there in the church and you’d stand there with a sheaf of hay on one side of you and a needle the other side and all you’ll eat is what blows through the eye of that needle till we bring back the Black Entire from Bryan O’Ville in the Underworld.’ It had to be carried out—all the wishes them days—oh, it was legal.

  She got up on the tower saying, ‘You bring with you a horse, a hawk and a hound. You’ll all have a horse, hawk and a hound, you know, to go with you.’ Where they got the horse, hawk and a hound, I don’t know. Anyhow, she got up on the tower, and they seen her get up there. And they put a sheaf of hay on the other side of her, and she had a needle in the other hand, and that’s the last they seen of her the other side. And they said, ‘Well, she’s not getting much till we get back.’

  They went along the road and they took them, the horse, hawk and hound—and, of course, as far as the hawk, the hawk would perch upon their shoulder in them days; that was part of a man’s protection. They didn’t have rifles, guns or anything else. And the first man that went along the road was Pat, you see. He went along on his horse with his hawk and his hound, and it went day on and day on, and he hadn’t had a bite to eat. And it come towards night and he said, ‘I’ll camp in this patch of the woods tonight.’ There’s an old hut there, sort of empty, and he said, ‘I’d better camp here anyhow, and I’ll tie my horse up.’ He got in and he said, ‘I’ll light a fire. I’ve got nothing much to eat.’ But all of a sudden there was a man come along with a mob of sheep, and as soon as he lay down and went to sleep, Pat said, ‘I’ll have one of his sheep.’

  He come out with his knife and he cut a sheep’s throat and he roasted a bit, fair on the fire—there was no cooking pots or anything there. He just got it half roasted when he heard a knock on the door—knock, knock. ‘I’m old, cold and feeble, will you let me in?’ Anyhow he said, ‘Yes. Come in, well, old lady, come in quick, you’ll die of the c
old.’ ‘Oh! But I’m frightened of your horse, hawk and hound. Here’s three bits of cord to tie them up with.’ And she pulled three hairs out of her head. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘They won’t touch you.’ ‘Well, just tie them up to please me,’ she said. So he tied them up, much to his own misfortune after, because they were magic hairs.

  Then she said, ‘I’m starving with the hunger, will you give me something to eat?’ ‘Oh, righto,’ he said. ‘Poor old lady, I’ve got a sheep on the fire I’m just cooking, and you can have a bit off that.’ Anyhow, he could see she was getting a bit restless and as he had it half-cooked he said, ‘Well, there’s a forequarter, you can have that.’ She gulped it down as fast as she could and she said, ‘Oh, I feel strong now.’ He hadn’t time to have a bite, hardly, so he said, ‘What did you do with that?’ ‘Oh, I ate it and I’m still starving with hunger. More meat!’

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I just give you a forequarter, but you can have another one.’ So he cut another off the grilled sheep that he’s got on the fire still cooking, and he watched her devouring that, and he said, ‘Madam, my God! That’s awful, I never seen a woman eat like that in my life.’ She said, ‘More meat!’ She was getting stronger and stronger and he got a bit suspicious then. He thought, this is a queer business, this.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘more meat, or else fight.’ ‘I don’t like fighting women,’ he said, ‘and I’ve only got one leg left for myself and you’re not getting that—you’ve ate the rest of the sheep.’ ‘Well,’ she said ‘more meat, or else fight.’ Pat said, ‘Fight you must have, then.’ And they pulled out their swords—them days they fought with swords—but it wasn’t long till she chopped his head off. She was a witch, you see, she had a magic sword and she cut his head clean off. That was the end of poor old Pat.

  Jim come along and he met the same fate. The same mob of sheep and everything. But when Jack come along the road the next day, he was looking along and he seen a bit of grass growing like rope, and he thought he’d put these few bits in his pocket, as they might do to tie the horse up and that, you see. He’s a wary man, Jack was. He had a look along there and he came to the same place on the same night somehow—you know, days after it. And he slept there and he saw the same man coming with the same mob of sheep, and then he was inside cooking this sheep as usual and he heard a knock at the door.

  ‘I’m old, cold and feeble, will you let me in?’ ‘Yes,’ Jack said, ‘come in.’ ‘No, but I’m frightened of your horse, hawk and hound. Here’s three little bits of cord to tie them up with.’ ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but they won’t touch you.’ ‘Oh yeah, but just do it to please me.’ ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it to please you.’ And he threw the three hairs in the fire—he was a bit suspicious of witches, you see. In them days there were numerous witches in Ireland, hundreds of them perhaps, we don’t know. They’ve died out, I think, to the present day. Anyhow, he threw hers in the fire and he tied them up with his own three bits of rope—the rushes what he brought along the road. He just tied them up to please her, you know.

  So while he was cooking his sheep and that, you know, she starts screaming with the hunger and wanting meat and everything. And he says, ‘All right.’ It come down that she ate three-quarters of the sheep. She said, ‘More meat, or else I’ll fight you.’ Now, you don’t often hear an old woman saying that, at her age. Those days, though, they were tough, you see. And he could see her getting stronger and stronger. Jack said to himself, ‘That’s a witch. I know,’ he said. ‘That’s one of the rottenest witches in this land!’ And she screamed out again.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’ve only got one forequarter left for myself, and you’re not getting it and that’s that.’ ‘More meat, or else fight,’ she said again. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘fight you must have.’ ‘Right! Take that sword,’ she said. ‘There’s the sword that killed your two brothers, and this’ll kill you too.’ She thought she had him well tied up. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘I’m the most famous witch in the land. I kill and eat men.’ Anyhow, Jack didn’t like to do it, but out they went. She flew around in the air and she was hopping about ten feet here and there and coming down on him with the point of the sword, and he was getting beat quick and lively. So he called, ‘Help, horse!’ ‘Ah!’ she said, ‘hold fast hair.’ And the hair said, ‘How can I when I burn behind the fire?’ ‘Ah!’ she said, ‘you tricked me.’

  Out come the horse with his front paws and all, and he come bashing at her, but she was beating the two of them with her sword. Anyhow, Jack said, ‘She’s doing the two of us, better sing out for the hound. Help, hound!’ And she cried, ‘Hold fast, hair.’ The hair said, ‘How can I, when I burn behind the fire?’ Out came the hound. She’s doing the hound too; she’s doing the three of them. And the last thing was the hawk. I don’t know where they got the hawk from, but he was always in—one of their famous compatriots them days, you know. ‘Help, hawk,’ cried Jack. ‘This is the last, I’m done.’ He’s bleeding to death, you see. She’s stabbing them in all directions. The horse was done, he was falling down. Anyhow, ‘Hold fast, hair’ again. The hair said, ‘How can I when I burn behind the fire?’ And out come the hawk. He picked her two eyes out.

  Soon as the eyes went out, Jack up with his sword and he hit a sidelong blow and he cut her head clean off. It flew up in the air about twenty feet. It was coming down again, and he could see it was going to stick on again so he give it a side-swipe with his sword then. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘if I’d have got me head on again that time you’d have never got it off again’. She said, ‘Strike them two stumps there and you’ll find your brothers, they’ll get up again.’ So with the magical sword of hers he struck them two butts of wood, and up jumped Pat and Jim. And they never seen much of the old woman after because she just disappeared in a vanish of smoke.

  So they said, ‘Well, we might as well all go along the road together’—they were all after the same mission you see—‘we’ve got to bring back that horse.’ The mother is still up on the steeple, still waiting there with a sheaf of hay on one side of her and a needle on the other.

  They go along the road a bit, and there’s a bloke come along on a black horse. And he said, ‘Where are you going?’ And Pat said, ‘Mind your own business, we’re not talking to you at all.’ He said to Jim, ‘Where’re you going, what are you doing?’ ‘Nothing to do with you at all.’ And he said to Jack, ‘Do you mind telling me where’re you going?’ And Jack, he was a level-headed sort of fellow and he thought he might even find some information. ‘We’re going to find the great horse called the Black Entire.’ He said, ‘I’m just the man that can help you, I’m Gothy Duff.’

  Now what that man was like I don’t know, but that was his name in Ireland. He said, ‘I can turn myself into a rooster. There are three witches own that horse and they’re the worst kind of women that ever lived in the underground. Just on account of you being friendly. I’ll go along with you.’

  So they all tramped along the road and they come into the dark woods and then they went into the deep gullies—one way or another—until they came into what they used to call the underworld. It was all undermined out of the earth, y’know, with caves and everything. [Gothy Duff] says, ‘You fellows better stop out here for a minute, and I’ll get in and I’ll get the horse. I’ll get him out, I know the witches that own him. Oh, no,’ he said, ‘I can turn myself into a rooster anytime and they can’t catch me.’

  He went down and he was getting in the stable where the horse was, and he just started to put the halter on when the horse give a neigh that shook the world. The witches were inside, and the old mother, she said, ‘Go out, there’s someone stealing the horse!’ When they rushed out, old Gothy just turned himself into a rooster, flew up on the beam, and they couldn’t find him. ‘Oh, there’s nobody there, Mother, at all. Not a soul.’

  They went back inside again, and after a while everything was quiet. He thought, ‘I’ll go back and I’ll g
et this horse out this time,’ but he just got the bridle half on him when the horse neighed and shook the world again. The witch said, ‘Go out, there’s someone stealing the horse.’ They went out. Nobody there. He had turned himself into a rooster again. He didn’t even crow; he was too cunning to crow. He flapped up on the beam. Anyhow, the third time it happened the old woman put on her thinking cap—she had a thinking cap and once she put that on she could think out anything in the world—and she said to the young witches, ‘See if there’s a strange rooster in the fowlhouse.’

  He was perched up on the roost. They went out and they got him. ‘We’ve got you, Gothy,’ they said, ‘we’ve got you at last. Come in, we’ve got you by the neck!’ He was squawk, squawk, squawk. ‘Turn yourself back into a man. You’ve got mates around here.’ The old woman said to the young witch, ‘Put on the cloak of darkness and the shoes of swiftness and scour the world till you find them.’ Out they went. They wasn’t long till they came back with Jack and Pat and Jim, bound and gagged. ‘We’ve got them, Mother,’ they said. ‘You’ve come stealing our horse.’

  As it went on, then they said, ‘Well, you’re all prisoners, we’ve got you down.’ Gothy said to her, ‘Can’t you let me and my friends there off? We did come to steal your horse, all right, but we haven’t got it.’ ‘Well,’ she said, ‘can you tell us a story?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ This story goes on and it says: ‘One time there was a king. This king was going out every day to the hills and he comes home and he wants to eat meat. He always wanted to eat human meat, and he wanted to cook his own child this day. His wife was living with him, and he said, “I’ll have to have the little girl in the pot tomorrow night.” His wife didn’t like it and said I don’t think I can do it. He said, “You got to do it, wife. If I say kill her, kill her and put her in that pot. I’ve got to eat her.” She always knew that he wanted toes first, fingers after. She was just crying along the road one day when she met this Gothy Duff, and he said to her, “What’s wrong?” and she said, “Oh, my husband wants to kill the little girl and eat her.” “Oh,” he says, “it can’t be done. You’ve got a little dog at home, haven’t you?”