Once upon a time when pigs were swine, there was a King and Queen, and
they had one son, Billy, and the Queen gave Billy a bull that he was
very fond of, and it was just as fond of him. After some time the
Queen died, and she put it as her last request on the King that he
would never part Billy and the bull, and the King promised that come
what might, come what may, he would not. After the Queen died the King
married again, and the new Queen didn’t take to Billy Beg, and no more
did she like the bull, seeing himself and Billy so _thick_. But she
couldn’t get the King on no account to part Billy and the Bull, so she
consulted with a hen-wife what they could do as regards separating
Billy and the bull. “What will you give me,” says the hen-wife, “and
I’ll very soon part them?” “Whatever you ask,” says the Queen. “Well
and good then,” says the hen-wife; “you are to take to your bed,
making pretend that you are bad with a complaint, and I’ll do the rest
of it.” And, well and good, to her bed she took, and none of the
doctors could do anything for her, or make out what was her complaint.
So the Queen asked for the hen-wife to be sent for. And sent for she
was, and when she came in and examined the Queen, she said there was
one thing, and only one, could cure her. The King asked what was that,
and the hen-wife said it was three mouthfuls of the blood of Billy
Beg’s bull. But the King wouldn’t on no account hear of this, and the
next day the Queen was worse, and the third day she was worse still,
and told the King she was dying, and he’d have her death on his head.
So, sooner nor this, the King had to consent to Billy Beg’s bull being
killed. When Billy heard this he got very down in the heart entirely,
and he went doitherin’ about, and the bull saw him, and asked him
what was wrong with him that he was so mournful; so Billy told the
bull what was wrong with him, and the bull told him to never mind, but
keep up his heart, the Queen would never taste a drop of his blood.
The next day, then, the bull was to be killed, and the Queen got up
and went out to have the delight of seeing his death. When the bull
was led up to be killed, says he to Billy, “Jump up on my back till we
see what kind of a horseman you are.” Up Billy jumped on his back, and
with that the bull leapt nine mile high, nine mile deep, and nine mile
broad, and came down with Billy sticking between his horns. Hundreds
were looking on dazed at the sight, and through them the bull rushed,
and over the top of the Queen, killing her dead, and away he galloped
where you wouldn’t know day by night, or night by day, over high
hills, low hills, sheep-walks, and bullock-traces, the Cove of Cork,
and old Tom Fox with his bugle horn. When at last they stopped, “Now
then,” says the bull to Billy, “you and I must undergo great scenery,
Billy. Put your hand,” says the bull, “in my left ear, and you’ll get
a napkin, that, when you spread it out, will be covered with eating
and drinking of all sorts, fit for the King himself.” Billy did this,
and then he spread out the napkin, and ate and drank to his heart’s
content, and he rolled up the napkin and put it back in the bull’s ear
again. “Then,” says the bull, “now put your hand into my right ear and
you’ll find a bit of a stick; if you wind it over your head three
times, it will be turned into a sword and give you the strength of a
thousand men besides your own, and when you have no more need of it as
a sword, it will change back into a stick again.” Billy did all this.
Then says the bull, “At twelve o’clock the morrow I’ll have to meet
and fight a great bull.” Billy then got up again on the bull’s back,
and the bull started off and away where you wouldn’t know day by
night, or night by day, over low hills, high hills, sheep-walks, and
bullock-traces, the Cove of Cork, and old Tom Fox with his bugle horn.
There he met the other bull, and both of them fought, and the like of
their fight was never seen before or since. They knocked the soft
ground into hard, and the hard into soft; the soft into spring wells,
the spring wells into rocks, and the rocks into high hills. They
fought long, and Billy Beg’s bull killed the other, and drank his
blood. Then Billy took the napkin out of his ear again and spread it
out and ate a hearty good dinner. Then says the bull to Billy, says
he, “At twelve o’clock to-morrow, I’m to meet the bull’s brother that
I killed the day, and we’ll have a hard fight.” Billy got on the
bull’s back again, and the bull started off and away where you
wouldn’t know day by night, or night by day, over high hills, low
hills, sheep-walks and bulloch-traces, the Cove of Cork, and old Tom
Fox with his bugle horn. There he met the bull’s brother that he
killed the day before, and they set to, and they fought, and the like
of the fight was never seen before or since. They knocked the soft
ground into hard, the hard into soft, the soft into spring wells, the
spring wells into rocks, and the rocks into high hills. They fought
long, and at last Billy’s bull killed the other and drank his blood.
And then Billy took out the napkin out of the bull’s ear again and
spread it out and ate another hearty dinner. Then says the bull to
Billy, says he, “The morrow at twelve o’clock I’m to fight the brother
to the two bulls I killed–he’s a mighty great bull entirely, the
strongest of them all; he’s called the Black Bull of the Forest, and
he’ll be too able for me. When I’m dead!” says the bull, “you, Billy,
will take with you the napkin, and you’ll never be hungry; and the
stick, and you’ll be able to overcome everything that comes in your
way; and take out your knife and cut a strip of the hide off my back
and another strip off my belly, and make a belt of them, and as long
as you wear them you cannot be killed.” Billy was very sorry to hear
this, but he got up on the bull’s back again, and they started off and
away where you wouldn’t know day by night or night by day, over high
hills, low hills, sheep-walks, and bulloch-traces, the Cove of Cork,
and Old Tom Fox with his bugle horn. And sure enough at twelve o’clock
the next day they met the great Black Bull of the Forest and both of
the bulls to it, and commenced to fight, and the like of the fight was
never seen before or since; they knocked the soft ground into hard
ground, and the hard ground into soft; and the soft into spring wells,
the spring wells into rocks, and the rocks into high hills. And they
fought long, but at length the Black Bull of the Forest killed Billy
Beg’s bull and drank his blood. Billy Beg was so vexed at this that
for two days he sat over the bull neither eating nor drinking, but
crying salt tears all the time. Then he got up, and he spread out the
napkin, and ate a hearty dinner, for he was very hungry with his long
fast; and after that he cut a strip of the hide off the bull’s back
and another off the belly, and made a belt for himself, and taking it
and the bit of stick, and the napkin, he set out to push his fortune,
and he travelled for three days and three nights till at last he came
to a great gentleman’s place, Billy asked the gentleman if he could
give him employment, and the gentleman said he wanted just such a boy
as him for herding cattle. Billy asked what cattle would he have to
herd, and what wages would he get. The gentleman said he had three
goats, three cows, three horses, and three asses that he fed in an
orchard, but that no boy who went with them ever came back alive, for
there were three giants, brothers, that came to milk the cows and the
goats every day, and killed the boy that was herding; so if Billy
liked to try, they wouldn’t fix the wages till they’d see if he would
come back alive.
“Agreed, then,” said Billy. So the next morning he got up and drove
out the three goats, the three cows, the three horses, and the three
asses to the orchard and commenced to feed them. About the middle of
the day Billy heard three terrible roars that shook the apples off the
bushes, shook the horns on the cows, and made the hair stand up on
Billy’s head, and in comes a frightful big giant with three heads, and
begun to threaten Bill. “You’re too big,” says the giant, “for one
bite, and too small for two. What will I do with you?” “I’ll fight
you,” says Billy, says he, stepping out to him and swinging the bit of
stick three times over his head, when it changed into a sword and gave
him the strength of a thousand men besides his own. The giant laughed
at the size of him, and says he, “Well, how will I kill you? Will it
be by a swing by the back, a cut of the sword, or a square round of
boxing?” “With a swing by the back,” says Billy, “if you can.” So they
both laid holds, and Billy lifted the giant clean off the ground, and
fetching him down again sunk him in the earth up to his arm-pits. “Oh,
have mercy!” says the giant. But Billy, taking his sword, killed the
giant, and cut out his tongues. It was evening by this time, so Billy
drove home the three goats, three cows, three horses, and three asses,
and all the vessels in the house wasn’t able to hold all the milk the
cows give that night.
“Well,” says the gentleman, “this beats me, for I never saw any one
coming back alive out of there before, nor the cows with a drop of
milk. Did you see anything in the orchard?” says he. “Nothing worse
nor myself,” says Billy. “What about my wages, now?” says Billy.
“Well,” says the gentleman, “you’ll hardly come alive out of the
orchard the morrow. So we’ll wait till after that.” Next morning his
master told Billy that something must have happened to one of the
giants, for he used to hear cries of three every night, but last night
he only heard two crying. “I don’t know,” said Billy, “anything about
them.” That morning after he got his breakfast Billy drove the three
goats, three cows, three horses, and three asses into the orchard
again, and began to feed them. About twelve o’clock he heard three
terrible roars that shook the apples off the bushes, the horns off the
cows, and made the hair stand up on Billy’s head, and in comes a
frightful big giant, with six heads, and he told Billy he had killed
his brother yesterday, but he would make him pay for it the day.
“Ye’re too big,” says he, “for one bite, and too small for two, and
what will I do with you?” “I’ll fight you,” says Billy, swinging his
stick three times over his head, and turning it into a sword, and
giving him the strength of a thousand men besides his own. The giant
laughed at him, and says he, “How will I kill you–with a swing by the
back, a cut of the sword, or a square round of boxing?” “With a swing
by the back,” says Billy, “if you can.” So the both of them laid
holds, and Billy lifted the giant clean off the ground, and fetching
him down again, sunk him in it up to the arm-pits. “Oh, spare my
life!” says the giant. But Billy taking up his sword, killed him and
cut out his tongues. It was evening by this time, and Billy drove home
his three goats, three cows, three horses, and three asses, and what
milk the cows gave that night overflowed all the vessels in the house,
and, running out, turned a rusty mill that hadn’t been turned before
for thirty years. If the master was surprised seeing Billy coming back
the night before, he was ten times more surprised now.
“Did you see anything in the orchard the day?” says the gentleman.
“Nothing worse nor myself,” says Billy. “What about my wages now?”
says Billy. “Well, never mind about your wages,” says the gentleman,
“till the morrow, for I think you’ll hardly come back alive again,”
says he. Well and good, Billy went to his bed, and the gentleman went
to his bed, and when the gentleman rose in the morning, says he to
Billy “I don’t know what’s wrong with two of the giants; I only heard
one crying last night.” “I don’t know,” says Billy, “they must be sick
or something.” Well, when Billy got his breakfast that day, again he
set out to the orchard, driving before him the three goats, three
cows, three horses, and three asses, and sure enough about the middle
of the day he hears three terrible roars again, and in comes another
giant, this one with twelve heads on him, and if the other two were
frightful, surely this one was ten times more so. “You villain, you,”
says he to Billy, “you killed my two brothers, and I’ll have my
revenge on you now. Prepare till I kill you,” says he; “you’re too big
for one bite, and too small for two; what will I do with you?” “I’ll
fight you,” says Billy, shaping out and winding the bit of stick three
times over his head. The giant laughed heartily at the size of him,
and says he, “What way do you prefer being killed? Is it with a swing
by the back, a cut of the sword, or a square round of boxing?” “A
swing by the back,” says Billy. So both of them again laid holds, and
my brave Billy lifts the giant clean off the ground, and fetching him
down again, sunk him down to his arm-pits in it. “Oh, have mercy!
Spare my life!” says the giant. But Billy took his sword, and,
killing him, cut out his tongues. That evening he drove home his three
goats, three cows, three horses, and three asses, and the milk of the
cows had to be turned into a valley where it made a lough three miles
long, three miles broad, and three miles deep, and that lough has been
filled with salmon and white trout ever since. The gentleman wondered
now more than ever to see Billy back the third day alive. “Did you see
nothing in the orchard the day, Billy?” says he. “No, nothing worse
nor myself,” says Billy. “Well, that beats me,” says the gentleman.
“What about my wages now?” says Billy. “Well, you’re a good, mindful
boy, that I couldn’t easy do without,” says the gentleman, “and I’ll
give you any wages you ask for the future.” The next morning, says the
gentleman to Billy, “I heard none of the giants crying last night,
however it comes.” “I don’t know,” says Billy, “they must be sick or
something.” “Now, Billy,” says the gentleman, “you must look after the
cattle the day again, while I go to see the fight.” “What fight?” says
Billy. “Why,” says the gentleman, “it’s the king’s daughter is going
to be devoured by a fiery dragon, if the greatest fighter in the land,
that they have been feeding specially for the last three months, isn’t
able to kill the dragon first. And if he’s able to kill the dragon the
king is to give him the daughter in marriage.” “That will be fine!”
says Billy. Billy drove out his three goats, three cows, three horses,
and three asses to the orchard that day again, and the like of all
that passed that day to see the fight with the man and the fiery
dragon, Billy never witnessed before. They went in coaches and
carriages, on horses and jackasses, riding and walking, crawling and
creeping. “My tight little fellow,” says a man that was passing to
Billy, “why don’t you come to see the great fight?” “What would take
the likes of me there?” says Billy. But when Billy found them all gone
he saddled and bridled the best black horse his master had, and put on
the best suit of clothes he could get in his master’s house, and rode
off to the fight after the rest. When Billy went there he saw the
king’s daughter, with the whole court about her, on a platform before
the castle, and he thought he never saw anything half as beautiful,
and the great warrior that was to fight the dragon was walking up and
down on the lawn before her, with three men carrying his sword, and
every one in the whole country gathered there looking at him. But when
the fiery dragon came up with twelve heads on him, and every mouth of
him spitting fire, and let twelve roars out of him, the warrior ran
away and hid himself up to the neck in a well of water, and all they
could do they couldn’t get him to come and face the dragon. Then the
king’s daughter asked if there was no one there to save her from the
dragon, and get her in marriage. But no one stirred. When Billy saw
this, he tied the belt of the bull’s hide round him, swung his stick
over his head, and went in, and after a terrible fight, entirely
killed the dragon. Everyone then gathered about to find who the
stranger was. Billy jumped on his horse and darted away sooner than
let them know; but just as he was getting away the king’s daughter
pulled the shoe off his foot. When the dragon was killed the warrior
that had hid in the well of water came out, and cutting off the heads
of the dragon he brought them to the king, and said that it was he who
killed the dragon, in disguise; and he claimed the king’s daughter.
But she tried the shoe on him and found it didn’t fit him; so she said
it wasn’t him, and that she would marry no one only the man the shoe
fitted. When Billy got home he changed his clothes again, and had the
horse in the stable, and the cattle all in before his master came.
When the master came, he began telling Billy about the wonderful day
they had entirely, and about the warrior hiding in the well of water,
and about the grand stranger that came down out of the sky in a cloud
on a black horse, and killed the fiery dragon, and then vanished in a
cloud again. “And now,” says he, “Billy, wasn’t that wonderful?” “It
was, indeed,” says Billy, “very wonderful entirely.” After that it was
given out over the country that all the people were to come to the
king’s castle on a certain day, till the king’s daughter would try the
shoe on them, and whoever it fitted she was to marry them. When the
day arrived Billy was in the orchard with the three goats, three
cows, three horses, and three asses, as usual, and the like of all the
crowds that passed that day going to the king’s castle to get the shoe
tried on, he never saw before. They went in coaches and carriages, on
horses and jackasses, riding and walking, and crawling and creeping.
They all asked Billy was not he going to the king’s castle, but Billy
said, “Arrah, what would be bringin’ the likes of me there?” At last
when all the others had gone there passed an old man with a very
scarecrow suit of rags on him, and Billy stopped him and asked him
what boot would he take and swap clothes with him. “Just take care of
yourself, now,” says the old man, “and don’t be playing off your jokes
on my clothes, or maybe I’d make you feel the weight of this stick.”
But Billy soon let him see it was in earnest he was, and both of them
swapped suits, Billy giving the old man boot. Then off to the castle
started Billy, with the suit of rags on his back and an old stick in
his hand, and when he come there he found all in great commotion,
trying on the shoe, and some of them cutting down their foot, trying
to get it to fit. But it was all of no use, the shoe could be got to
fit none of them at all, and the king’s daughter was going to give up
in despair when the wee, ragged-looking boy, which was Billy, elbowed
his way through them, and says he, “Let me try it on; maybe it would
fit me.” But the people when they saw him, all began to laugh at the
sight of him, and “Go along out of that, you example, you,” says they,
shoving and pushing him back. But the king’s daughter saw him, and
called on them by all manner of means to let him come up and try on
the shoe. So Billy went up, and all the people looked on, breaking
their hearts laughing at the conceit of it. But what would you have of
it, but to the dumfounding of them all, the shoe fitted Billy as nice
as if it was made on his foot for a last. So the king’s daughter
claimed Billy as her husband. He then confessed that it was he that
killed the fiery dragon; and when the king had him dressed up in a
silk and satin suit, with plenty of gold and silver ornaments,
everyone gave in that his like they never saw afore. He was then
married to the king’s daughter, and the wedding lasted nine days, nine
hours, nine minutes, nine half minutes, and nine quarter minutes, and
they lived happy and well from that day to this. I got brogues of
_brochan_[8] and breeches of glass, a bit of pie for telling a lie,
and then I came slithering home.
[Footnote 8: Porridge.]
