He vaguely remembered his father saying something about those trees (weren’t there meant to be three of them?), but mostly he was angry with his brother for trespassing. It was his land. These were his trees. He looked at the two trees and thought there would be just enough wood to make a fence around the hill, a fence to stop people like his brother from trespassing where they weren’t wanted.
He went to his barn and got the biggest axe he could find. He marched back up to the top of the hill, raised his axe and he chopped, chopped, chopped at one of the trees.
A strange breeze rose up around him. He chopped, chopped, chopped at the heart of that tree. The breeze blew into a wind.
He chopped, chopped, chopped through the heart of that tree. With a crack, the trunk broke. The wind twisted around, picked up the tree and dropped it onto the second brother. The cabinetmaker used the wood to build him a coffin and that was the end of him.
The youngest brother moved into the farmhouse, but he never forgot his father and the old ways. He took good care of all of his fields and soon the entire farm was prospering again. Every spring he took a posy of primroses up to the ancient Lady on the hill. After he was married and had sons and daughters of his own, they made a little procession of it. To this day his descendants still bring a posy of primroses up One Tree Hill and that farm is still the most prosperous in the county.
NOTES: Beech trees are found through most of Europe and are native to the south of England and of Wales. However, they can be found much further north, where they have been planted on farms and estates. They can live up to a 1,000 years and so are the elders of many native ecosystems. While this story can be told at any time of year, it is a nice one to tell around 1 May, when there are primroses about in the woods. Have audience members embody the story by telling it outside and giving volunteers pots of cultivated primroses to put under a local beech tree. Make a ceremony of it. Have fun!
27
THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A VINEGAR BOTTLE
(ENGLAND)
Once upon a time, there was an old woman who lived in a vinegar bottle. One day, a fairy was passing by and she heard the old woman talking to herself: ‘It’s a shame, it really is a terrible shame that I have to live here in a vinegar bottle. I ought to be in a nice little country cottage instead, with a thatched roof and roses growing all about the door.’
So the fairy flew down to the old woman and said, ‘Alright then, before you go to bed tonight, turn around three times, shut your eyes, and in the morning you shall see what you shall see.’
And that’s what the old woman did. She stood next to her bed in her nightgown and she turned around three times, lay down and shut her eyes. When she woke in the morning she was in a pretty little cottage, with a thatched roof and pink roses growing all around the door. Well, the old woman was very surprised and pleased, but she quite forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy flew north, she flew south, she went east and west, all about the business she had to do. Then she thought to herself, ‘I’ll go and see how the old woman is getting on, she must be very happy in her new cottage.’
As the fairy got to the door of the cottage, she heard the old woman inside, talking to herself: ‘It’s a shame, it really is a terrible shame that I have to live alone here in a tiny cottage, all by myself. No, I should be in a smart townhouse, instead, with lace curtains at my window, a brass door knocker, and a cobbled street outside, busy with neighbours.’
The fairy was quite surprised, but she said, ‘Very well, before you go to bed tonight, turn around three times, shut your eyes and in the morning, you shall see, what you shall see.’
So, before the old woman went to bed that night, she turned around three times. Then she lay down, shut her eyes, and in the morning there she was in a nice little house, in the middle of a row of houses, in the town. There were lace curtains at the window and a brass knocker on the door, and outside a cobbled street all bustling with merry folk going about their business.
Well, the old woman was very surprised and very pleased, but she quite forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy flew north, she flew south, she went east and west, all about the business she had to do. Then presently she thought to herself, ‘I’ll go and see how the old woman is getting on, surely she must be happy now.’
When she got to the row of little houses, the fairy heard the old woman talking to herself: ‘It’s a shame, oh, a terrible shame that I have to live here in a busy street with noisy, common people all around me. No, I should be living in a fine country mansion, instead, with a great garden all around and servants to answer the bell.’
Well the fairy was surprised and slightly annoyed, but she said to the old woman, ‘Before you go to bed tonight, turn around three times, shut your eyes, and in the morning you shall see what you shall see.’
So, before the old woman climbed into bed that night, she stood next to her bed in her nighty, turned around three times, lay down and closed her eyes. In the morning there she was in a fine big country mansion, with well-kept gardens all around and servants to answer the bell.
The old woman was very surprised and very pleased, and she learned how to talk politely, but she quite forgot to thank the fairy.
And the fairy flew north, she went south, east and west, all about the business she had to do, until after a time she thought to herself, ‘I’ll go and see how the old woman is getting on. Surely she must be happy now.’
But no sooner had the fairy reached the great window of the drawing room, than she heard the old woman talking to herself, in a very genteel voice: ‘It most certainly is a shame. Yes, a very great shame, that I should be living here quite alone, with no polite society around me. No, I should be living as a duchess, in a great mansion, instead. I should have my own coach with footmen running along beside me, and I should wait on the Queen herself, that I ought!’
The fairy was very surprised and very disappointed, but she said, ‘Very well. Before you go to bed tonight, turn around three times and in the morning, you shall see what you shall see.’
So, after the maid had dressed the old woman in her embroidered nightgown and bed-cap, she stood next to her large, canopied feather bed, turned around three times, lay down and shut her eyes. In the morning, there she was, a duchess, living in the biggest house yet, with a coach to take her to wait upon the Queen, and footmen and servants to run along beside her.
The old woman was incredibly surprised and more pleased than ever before, BUT she quite forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy flew north, she went south, east and west, all about the business she had to do, and after a while she thought to herself, ‘I wonder how the old woman is getting on, I’d better go and see. Surely she must be happy now she is a duchess?’
But no sooner had she arrived at the window of the great mansion, than she heard the old woman talking to herself, in a very refined accent: ‘It is indeed a most terrible shame, that I am merely a duchess, who must wait on the Queen and curtsey to her. Why, I should be a queen myself, living in a grand palace, sitting on a golden throne, with a golden crown upon my head and courtiers to wait upon me.’
Well the fairy was very disappointed and very angry, but she said, ‘Very well. Before you go to bed, turn around three times and in the morning, you shall see what you shall see.’
The old woman went to bed that night full of proud thoughts. After her servants had dressed her in her elaborate sleeping attire, she turned regally around three times, lay down on her gold encrusted bed, closed her eyes, and in the morning she was in the Queen’s palace, with servants and footmen and dignitaries to wait upon her. In fact there was the former queen herself, bowing and curtseying to the old woman!
And the old woman was surprised beyond belief, and very satisfied with her own royal grandeur, BUT she completely forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy flew north, she flew south, she went east and west, all about the business she had to do, and after a while she thought
to herself, ‘I wonder how the old woman is getting on now that she is Queen, I’ll go and find out. I’m sure she must finally be very happy, and satisfied being the ruler of the whole country!’
But as the fairy flew up to the windows of the Queen’s royal palace, she heard the old woman speaking in the most refined, upper class voice ever heard, ‘Why, this is without a doubt, the most terrible shame of all, that we are merely the Queen of this tiny little country. We are very not amused with so lowly a position. Why we should be the ruler of the world, greater than the Pope himself. Yes, indeed, we should rule the universe, and all of Earth’s inhabitants!’
The fairy was shocked, and was growing as furious as a fairy can be, but she took a deep breath and said, ‘Very well. Before you go to bed, turn around three times and in the morning, you shall see what you shall see.’
That evening the old woman was dressed by her royal attendants in her finest silk night robes, with a silver, diamond-encrusted tiara upon her head. She turned around regally three times, was lifted into bed and shut her royal eyes, and in the morning she was right back inside her vinegar bottle!
NOTES: This classic tale is full of repetitive phrases, which younger children love. Audiences can be encouraged to join in with the bedtime ceremony.
Speaking the old woman’s lines with an ever-posher accent is also fun.
The story illustrates the uncontrolled ego’s need for more and more resources. It is a good way to open a discussion about sustainable living, with even the youngest learners.
There is a theory that the ‘vinegar bottle’ in this story, was actually an oast house. These were hop-drying stores, circular in shape with a cone on top – not dissimilar to an old-fashioned, vinegar bottle.
28
JACK AND THE DANCING TREES
(SCOTLAND, TRAVELLERS)
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Jack who worked on the estate of a wealthy laird. Although this laird had lots of money, he held onto it tightly, paying Jack just one penny a week for all his hard work.
For the most part, Jack didn’t mind. He lived in a cosy stone cottage with his mum, who was a canny old woman. She knew how to harvest berries from hedgerows to make jams, how to spin fine yarn from the scraps of fleece left behind on bushes, and how to make potent poultices out of the most ordinary plants. Between his penny and the coins his mum gathered selling her jams and yarn and cures, they lived quite comfortably.
But on the day this story took place, which just happened to be the longest day of the year, Jack was sitting watching his laird’s sheep and thinking about Jennie. Jennie worked as a maid in the laird’s big old mansion house and Jack fancied her. Jennie had just the other day made it clear that she fancied him right back. But it would take a lot more money than Jack could save on a penny a week to make a life for himself and Jennie.
As this problem was going around in his head, there was a commotion of wings flapping and bird voices calling out from the grove of trees that grew on the small hill near the field where he was sitting. Jack had learned the language of the birds from his mum so he listened closely to what they were saying.
‘Tonight’s the night,’ the sparrows were chirping.
‘These trees will dance,’ agreed the crows.
‘With no thought for the feathered folk,’ creaked the magpie, fluffing out her feathers.
‘It only happens once every hundred years,’ trilled the blackbird.
‘Dancing trees,’ chatted the jackdaw. ‘What will they think of next?’
And with that, all the birds took off out of the trees and flew away.
Jack was intrigued. What did his feathered friends mean by dancing trees? He spotted his mum making her way across the field, carrying some bread and cheese for his lunch. He met her and told her what he’d overheard.
She nodded her head wisely. ‘I’ve heard tales that the big old oak tree up there pulls himself out of the ground every hundred years on Midsummer’s Eve and goes dancing with the young birch maidens that grow so coyly around him.’
She looked carefully around to make sure no one was there. ‘It is also said that the trees keep treasures hidden amongst their roots. But a treasure-seeker has to be careful not to lose himself in the seeking, or he could end up flattened. Here, take a ball of my yarn,’ she said with a wink. ‘You never know when it might come in handy.’
As she walked back across the field, gathering stray bits of fleece as she went, Jack looked at the ball of yarn. It seemed ordinary enough; what had his mum meant? He shrugged and shoved it in his pocket.
‘Jack,’ someone called. He turned and there was Jennie hurrying down the path from the mansion house. He waved and went to join her.
‘I’ve come to warn you,’ said Jennie, a bit breathlessly. ‘The laird’s in a right old state, tearing about the place, muttering ‘today’s the day’ and getting crabby with everyone he comes across. You’d better be on your best behaviour today. Better yet, avoid him altogether. I’ve no idea what’s gotten into him.’
‘I think I know,’ said Jack and he filled her in on all he’d learned.
‘Don’t do it,’ said Jennie.
‘Do what?’ asked Jack.
‘I know what you’re thinking and it’s too dangerous,’ she said. Which was when Jack realised what he was going to do. He was going to stick around till night time to see the trees dance.
Jennie tried to get him to promise to go home as soon as his work was done. ‘In the mood he’s in, if the laird catches you snooping around his property, you could find yourself fired or worse,’ she said. She hurried back to the mansion, not wanting to be caught herself.
As dusk neared, Jack found a clump of bushes to hide behind and settled down to wait. The evening was eerily quiet with the birds all fled, but as the sun sank towards the horizon, the notes of an otherworldly music filled the air.
There was a sigh and a moan, a crack and a groan and the huge oak tree, that some call Old Croovie, shook and rattled and heaved himself out of the ground, his huge ropey roots moving in time to the music.
The lovely white birch trees on the hill began to shiver and shimmy along with him until all twelve had shaken themselves right out of the soil as well. The trees danced down the hill and across the field, pounding the ground as they moved.
Jack was about to follow them, when he saw a dark shadow creeping up the hill towards the holes that the trees had left behind. It looked like the laird.
Jack snuck up the hill to find out what he was up to. He got there just in time to see the laird jump into the huge root hole that the oak tree had left behind. Jack peeked over the edge. The walls of the hole sparkled with gold and jewels, crowns and coins. The laird had a big sack and he was throwing treasures into it as fast as he could.
Jack crept over to the next hole, one left by a birch tree. It was much smaller and shallower and there were fewer things gleaming in the moonlight. He thought about his sweetheart Jennie and how much he wanted to marry her. He thought about his mum and how hard she worked to put food on their table and to keep their house comfortable and warm. Far in the distance, he could hear the strange music and the thumping of the dancing trees. He’d just be down there for a minute or two, plenty of time to get back out before the trees returned. He jumped in.
The hole was deeper than it had seemed and there were more jewels and gold than he’d thought. He plucked a large blue sapphire out of the wall and put it in his pocket for his mum. A sprinkling of soil trickled onto his feet. He found a gold ring the perfect size for Jennie’s finger and pried it loose, sending down another cascade of dirt.
Just as he’d put the ring in his pocket, Jennie’s head appeared at the edge of the hole. ‘Jack,’ she called. ‘You have to get out, now. The sky is getting lighter and the sound of the trees is growing closer.’
Jack tried to scramble up the side of the root hole, but the loose soil kept coming away under his fingers.
‘Quickly,’ cried Jennie.
/> Jack remembered the ball of yarn his mum had given him. He held one end and threw the rest up to Jennie. ‘Tie this onto a sturdy bush,’ he called. She nodded and disappeared from view. She reappeared. He tugged on the yarn. It seemed strong enough.
Hand, over hand, he pulled himself up out of the roothole. By the time he got out, the trees could be seen across the field, still dancing to the music, but heading back to their hill.
Jack ran over to the big hole. The laird’s sack was bulging, but he was still down there cramming more treasure into it. ‘Laird,’ Jack called to him, tying one end of the yarn to a bush and tossing the ball down into the hole. ‘The trees are coming back, you’ve got to get out of there.’ The laird ignored Jack and the yarn, his wide eyes shone darkly as he continued to scrabble for jewels in the dirt.
Jennie tugged on Jack’s hand. The trees were dancing up the hill. Jack and Jennie ran as fast as they could down the other side. They didn’t stop running until they got to the little stone cottage, where Jack’s mum had dinner waiting for them both.
They came back the next day and found the yarn Jack had left tied to the bush. It disappeared under the huge roots of the oak tree. There was no sign of the laird.
Jack did not wait long to put the gold ring on Jennie’s finger and soon after that they moved into the little stone cottage. Jack’s mum sold the sapphire and bought herself a house on a loch, where she lived happily ever after.
And the wealthy old laird? He was never seen again. The estate was given to his son, who turned out to be a much more generous employer than his father and Jack and Jennie both got a big raise.
NOTES: Jack stories are common across England and Scotland. They have even turned up in French-speaking parts of North America as stories about P’tit Jean. Jack is the working everyman, who tries to live rightly in relation to his employer, his family and the wider world he is a part of. This story makes a good introduction to the complex topic of resource extraction and the concentration of wealth.
Dancing with Trees Page 14