‘Och,’ he says, ‘it wid hae bought ma faither’s castle althegither, right oot be the root.’
‘Aye,’ he says, ‘Ah tellt ye it wis a good table-cover,’ he says. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘Ah’ll have tae get ye a ring,’ says the frog. ‘Ye better come away doon an see the rest o the family,’ ye see? Lifts the flagstane up an Jeck went doon the steps, ye see, an intae this big parlour place an he’s sittin down, the ’lectric lights is burnin, an this wee frog jumped on tap o his knee an he’s aye clappin this wee frog, ye see, on tap o his knee, clappin the wee frog, an it’s croakin up in his face wi its wee golden eyes, ye see. Well, when the time come when Jack got-they gienhim a good meal, ye know, no frogs’ meat or onythin like that, it wis good meat they gien him on dishes, this frogs hoppin aboot the place an gien him a nice feed, ye see, an they gies him this wee box – it wis a velvet box, black, did ye ever see wee black velvet boxes? He says, ‘There it is, Jack,’ he says, ‘an the like of that ring,’ he says, ‘is not in the country,’ he says. ‘Take it tae yer father an let him see that.’
So Jack stuck it in his waistcoat pocket – an auld waistcoat he had on, ye see, an he’s oot, an he’s cleanin – but he wis forgettin aboot the year an the day – it passed quicker, ye see. Here’s the two brothers comin doon the avenue on their great horses, galloping. Jumped aff an said, ‘Did ye get . . .’ They wantit tae ken if Jack got a ring.
Jack says, ‘Look,’ he says, ‘dinnae bother me,’ says Jack, he says. ‘Go up an see the aul man,’ he says, ‘instead o goin lookin for rings,’ he said. ‘Ah’ve never seen as much nonsense as this in ma life.’ He says, ‘Why can they no let you be king,’ he says, ‘onywey, ye’re the oldest,’ he says, ‘ ’stead o cairryin on like this?’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘what’s tae be done is tae be done, Jack,’ so away they went, up tae see their father. The good advisers wis there. And they showed the rings tae their father, an the father’s lookin at the two rings, an judgin the rings, oh, they were lovely rings, no mistake about it, they were lovely rings, ye see, diamonds an everything on them. Here they come – Jack come up the stair again an he wabbles in an he’s lookin at them arguin aboot the rings and Jack says, ‘Look, father,’ he says, ‘have a look at that ring.’ Jack never seen the ring, and the father opened the wee box and what met his eyes, it hurtit the good advisers’ an the old king’s eyes, it hurted them. There wis a stone, a diamond stone, sittin in it would have bought the whole castle an the land right about it, ye see?
So anyway, here the brothers widnae be pleased at this. ‘Naw, naw, naw, this is nae use, father,’ he says, ‘give us another chance,’ he says. ‘The third time’s a charm,’ he says, ‘give us another chance.’
‘But,’ says the father, he says, ‘Jack won twice,’ he says, ‘it’s no fair,’ an this good adviser, the old man ’at liked Jack said, ‘No, no, Jack’ll have to be king; he won twice.’
‘No, no, father, gie us another chance,’ he says, so the brothers says, ‘Ah’ll tell ye, father, let us get a good wife,’ he says, ‘tae fit the ring an them that gets the nicest bride tae fit the ring’ll get the king’s castle. How will that do, Jack?’
Jack says, ‘Fair enough tae me.’ But Jack got feart noo because he mindit it wis puddicks he wis amongst. Where would he get a wife from amongst a lot o wee puddicks, frogs an things, ye see? Same thing again, up tae the tap o the tower an threw off their feathers, and one feather went away one road and the other feather went away the other road, but Jack’s feather went roon tae the back o the castle. ‘Aw,’ says Jack, ‘Ah’m no goin back. That’s it finished now, Jack.’ Jack says, ‘Ah’m lowsed.’ He says, ‘Ah’m no goin tae tak nae wee frog for a wife,’ ye see?
So anyway, Jack waited tae the year wis up, an jist for the fun o the thing, he says, ‘Ah’ll go roond the back o the castle,’ he says, ‘an see what’s goin ’ae happen.’ Roon he went tae the back o the castle and here’s three or four frogs sittin greetin, and the wee frog that sut on his knee, hit wis greetin, the tears runnin out o its een, an it wis jist like a man playin pibroch, ‘Hee-haw, hee-haw’, an aa the frogs is greetin, ye see, an here all danced wi glee, and this wee frog come an met him an looked up in his face and climbed up his leg, this wee tottie frog, an he lifted the flagstane an they hoppit doon, ye see.
‘Well Jack,’ he says, the old frog says to Jack, he says, ‘Ah wis thinkin,’ he says, ‘Jack, ye widnae come,’ he says. ‘Ye were frightened,’ he says, ‘we couldnae get ye a wife, didn’t ye [sic] Jack?’
‘Yes,’ says Jack, ‘tae be truthful wi ye,’ he says, ‘I thought,’ he says, ‘a frog,’ he says, ‘widnae do me for a wife.’
‘Well,’ says the old man, efter they gied him somethin tae eat, he says, ‘How wid ye like Susan for a wife?’ An this wis the wee frog that wis on his knee, an he wis clappin it.
Jack says, ‘That wee frog,’ he says, ‘how could that make a wife tae me?’
‘Yes, Jack,’ he says, ‘that is yer wife,’ he says, ‘an a woman,’ he says, ‘a wife,’ he says, ‘yer brothers,’ he says, ‘will have pretty women back wi them,’ he says, ‘but nothing like Susan.’
So anyway, here, they says, ‘Go out,’ to Jack. ‘Go out for an hour,’ he says, ‘round the back,’ he says, ‘an intae the kitchen,’ he says, ‘and take a cup o tea an come back out again,’ he says; ‘we’ll have everything ready for ye.’ Jack went roond noo an he’s feared, he didn’t know what wis gonnae tae happen, an he’s taken a cup o tea, but he’s back roond.
Here when he come roon at the back o the castle beside the trees, there wis a great big cab sittin, lined wi gold, an the wee frog, it wis the frog, was the loveliest princess ever ye seen in yer life. She wis dressed in silk, ye could see through the silk that wis on her – she wis jist a walkin spirit, a lovely angel she looked like, an when Jack seen her, he says, wi his guttery boots an everything, he wouldn’t go near her. So this old king, it wis an old king, a fat frog wi a big belly, green, an he says, ‘There is yer bride, there’s Susan,’ he says, ‘How dae ye like the look o her, Jack?’
Jack rubbed his eyes like that . . . He says, ‘Look,’ he says, ‘I couldnae take a lady like that,’ he says, he says, ‘it’s impossible . . . Look at the mess Ah’m in.’
‘Oh but,’ says the puddicks, they says, ‘we’ll soon pit that right,’ says the old frog, and he says, ‘jist turn three times roon aboot,’ an Jeck turned three times: an as he’s turnin roon aboot his claes wis changin, an there he’s turned the beautifullest king ye ever seen in yer life – a prince, medals an a gold sword – ye never seen the like o it in yer life, an this cab wi six grey horses in it and footmen an everything on the back o the cab, an here when she seen Jack she come an put her airms roon Jack’s neck, an Jack kissed her, ye see, an they went intae the cab.
Now they drove oot – this wis the year an a day up now, ye see, this was the[? term’s day] – but when they come roon here they’re comin drivin up the road, but the two brothers wis up before Jack, an . . . they sees the cab comin up the drive, an the two brothers looked oot the windae, an ‘Aw, call out the guard,’ they said, an here’s the guard out and the old king got up oot o his bed, he’s lookin through the windae, opened the big sash curtains back, an he says, ‘Ah told ye,’ he says, ‘Jack stole the ring an stole the table-cover. This is the king come,’ he says, ‘tae . . . claim his goods,’ he says, ‘that Jack stole.’
Well anyway, here, what happens but the two brothers cam oot an they says, ‘Oh,’ they says, ‘Ah told ye, father, not tae take Jack,’ but here when Jack stepped oot o the cab an they seen Jack, Jack waved up tae the windae, his father, ‘Hi Dad!’ he says, an he shouts tae his father. The father looked doon an he rubbed his een an he says, ‘Is that you, Jack?’
Jack says, ‘Yes, father, it’s me,’ he says, ‘an here is ma wife. Ah’m comin up tae see ye.’
Well, when the two brothers seen Jack’s wife they went an took their two wifes an they pit them intae the lavatories an locked th
e door. Haud them oot o the road, intae the lavatories they pit them. ‘Get away oot o here, shoo, get oot o here, get oot o here! Oh, Jack’s wife,’ he says, ‘we wouldn’t be shamed wi youse women!’ An the two lassies that the two oldest brothers had, started tae cry, ye see, they shoved them intae the lavatories. ‘Go in there,’ he says, ‘oot o the road,’ he says, ‘until I get ye a horse,’ he says, ‘that ye can gallop away.’
An when Jack come up an . . . when the father an the good advisers seen this lovely princess, the like wis never in the country, they made Jack king, and the bells were ringin for the feast an Jack was the king; an he wis good to aw the poor folk aw roon the country, folk ’at the owld king used tae be good to, Jack wis three times better tae them an they loved Jack for ever after, an Jack lived happy, an he’s king noo on the tap o Keelymabrook, away up in the hills. That’s the end o ma story.
10 Geordie Stewart
THE GREEN MAN OF KNOWLEDGE
WELL, THIS IS A STORY aboot an old lady – an auld woman – she bred pigs. She wes a widow-woman, an she’d a son cried Jack. An this son wes jist a nitwit, he’d nae sense, they said – so they said, onywey – an he used to sit at the fireside amongst the ashes. Aye, he’d a big auld hairy Hielan collie-dog. An this collie-dog wes aa he look’t at an mindit; him an his dog used to sit, an play cards wi the dog – an I couldnae say the dog played back, like – he played cards wi his dog. An that’s aa he did, the lee-lang day.
But Jack, he comes to the age of twenty-one. An on his twenty-oneth birthday, . . . he rises fae the fireside an streetches hissel – an he’s a man weel over six fit. An his breekies he was wearin fin he did streetch hissel went up to abeen his knees. An his jaicket an schuil-buits . . . he wes a giant o a man, compared to the clothes he wore. He was aye sittin humphed up.
He says, ‘Mither,’ he says, ‘you feed awa at your pigs, Jack’s awa to push his fortune.’
‘Ah,’ she says, ‘feel Jack, dinnae gae ’wa noo, ‘cause ye’ll jist get lost, an ye ken ye’ve niver been past the gate o the place there aa your life, Jack. Jist bide far ye are.’
So: ‘Ah, but mither,’ he says, ‘I’m gaun awa to push my fortune, an nothing ’ll dee me but I’m gaun to push my fortune.’
‘No, no, Jack, awa an play wi yir doggie.’
He says, ‘No, I’m gaun to push my fortune.’
She says, ‘Weel, Jack, dinna wander awa.’ But Jack niver bothers, mither or nothing else – he hauds awa, whenever she turns her back. An . . . he opens the gate an walks oot – and whenever he opened that gate, he’s in anither world. He didnae know where he wes, because he’d niver been oot o the fairmyard in his life. An he walks doon the road. So – if everything be true, this’ll be nae lies – there were a crossroads, an on wan o the signposts it says: ‘To the Land of Enchantment.’ So Jack says, ‘Here’s for it.’
So he hauds doon the road to the Land of Enchantment onywey. And in the Land of Enchantment – I must tell ye this, because you’ll understand what I tell yeze! – everything spoke: animals, birds, everything spoke. So he’s comin on, an he’s feelin gey hungry, Jack. He’s a gey lump o a lad, an he liked his meat, and he was feelin hungry. So he says, ‘Lord, I weisht I asked my mither for a bannock or something to take on the road wi me, ’cause it’s gey hungry, gaun awa.’
He’s comin on, an he looks – an did ye ever see a horse-troch, aa kin’ o grown wi moss? – an a lovely troch it wis, at the road side. An Jack says: ‘O, thank the Lord, I’ll get a drink onywey, it’ll quench the hunger for a bittie – ma thirst tae.’ So – there a wee robin sittin on the edge o the water – the edge o the troch, ye ken – so he bends doon his heid an takes a drink.
The robin says, ‘Hullo, Jack.’
He says, ‘Lord, hi God, it’s a bird speakin! Whit are ye speakin for?’ he says. ‘I never heard a bird speak in ma life.’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘Jack, ye’re in the Land of Enchantment – everything an everybody can speak.’
‘Oh, but’ – he says – ‘nae a bird!’ He says: ‘If I didnae see’t wi my ain een, I wouldnae believe.’
‘Oh yes, Jack, I can talk.’
He says, ‘Fit wey d’ye ken ma name?’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘Jack, we knew ye were comin – we’d been waitin on ye for twenty-one year, Jack.’
‘Lord, ye’d a gey wait, had ye no?’
But – he has a drink o water – he says, ‘Ye ken fit I could dae wi,’ he says, ‘birdie,’ he says, ‘I could dae wi a richt feed o meat.’
‘Oh, well, Jack,’ he says, ‘jist follae me.’
So it trittles awa, doon the road a bit, an here’s a lovely thackit cot at the roadside, an an old woman as if she’d the age o a hunder, an she’s rockin back an forrit in an aul rockin chair. So she says, ‘Come in, Jack.’ She says, ‘Go in an get your supper, Jack.’
So when Jack comes in, here’s a lovely table set, an a plate o porridge an milk an some tea, an so on, cakes an biscuits – nae it, scones, an things like that – there wisna ony cakes at that time, scones was . . . home-made fancy at that time on aa. An a lovely young girl. An she was supplied wi the food, d’ye see?
So he sits doon, an has a plate o this porridge, an it tasted lovely, he never tasted anything finer in his life. (When ye’re hungry, anything tastes fine). An he had some tea – no, I’m gaun through my story: I made a mistake in that story . . . there were nae tea; it was home-brewed ale. . . . He’d a mug o this home-brewed ale, an some scones, oatcakes, things like that.
So she says, ‘Jack, would you like to lie down?’
An he says, ‘I wouldnae care,’ he says, ‘I’m feelin gey weary,’ he says, ‘an things, an I could dee wi a lie-doon.’
She says, ‘Come up here, Jack.’ An she takes him up, an there the loveliest feather bed that ever you seen in your life, a richt bed. And so Jack jist lies doon, an sinks in, an faas quite asleep.
So he’s lyin, but he waukens through the night, an he’s lyin on a sheepskin an three peats. He says, ‘My God, ma bed’s changed quick! Lord,’ he says, ‘a queer bed.’ But he faas awa again – Jack didnae worry, he wis used to lyin in ashes onywey. He faas awa again, but he waukens in the mornin, an he’s lying in this lovely bed again. He says, ‘My God, this is a queer country.’ He says, ‘It’s jist nae like ma mither’s place at aa.’
But he jumps ootowre his bed, an he gaes doon, an the breakfast’s waitin for him again. So . . . the young girl says: ‘Go out, an my grandmother’ll gie ye some advice, Jack. In the land you’re in, all ’e advice you can get, you take, Jack, ’cause you’ll need it, see?’
So Jack says, ‘Aye, I aye tak advice, lassie.’ He says: ‘It’s nae doin ony hairm.’
So he gaes oot tae the door, he says, ‘Weel, Grannie, how are ye keepin?’
‘Och,’ she says, ‘fine, Jack.’ She says, ‘Jack, I’m gaun to give ye some advice. When you go along this road today, Jack, never talk to anybody first. Wait tae they talk to you first.’
He says: ‘Weel, whatever ye say, Grannie.’
So he says good-bye, he hauds on his wey, but when he’s gone . . . doon a bit o the road, the young girl cries efter him, an gies him some sangwiches to carry on with – ye ken, scones an butter, an things like that. So he carries them wi him, ye see?
But, to mak a lang story short an a short story lang, he hauds on the road. An he’s ho the road, hey the road, doon this road, ye see? But he’s walkin, an he hears the bells o a village, like a church-bell ringin awa; it wis helluva sweet-like music, ye ken – he hears awa in a hollow, ye wad think; it wis bonny-like. So he comes on ower the ridge, an he looks doon in a den, an here’s a lovely village. So, . . . the most of the scones . . . that he got, he ate them, and there was a small bit o . . . a somethin got up in a piece o cloth, ye ken – an he opens it up, an here’s a gold piece. Either a geeny, or a . . . what kin it was I dinna ken, but a gold piece, that’s aa that I ken. An he takes it oot, looks at it, pits it in his pocket, an gaes on tae the village.
So he looks, an here’s a inn. He says, ‘I’ll gang in here,’ he says, ‘for some home-brewed ale an scones,’ he says (he wes feelin hungry again). So he gaes in, an he orders home-brewed ale an scones, an he eats a gey hillock, at least a platefae. An has a richt drink.
So he looks ower in a corner, an there three men playin cards, an they’re aa playin cards jist, neither speakin, movin, or anything else, jist playin cards. An there a man dressed fae the [?paws o] his taes tae the heid . . . his heid in green. An oh . . . a very cunnin-lookin man – mebbe he’s a man aboot fifty, but what a cunnin face. Jist by the face, ye would ken he was very clever – that man had brains.
So Jack gings ower til ’im an says, ‘Can I get a game?’
He says, ‘Have ye money?’
Jack says, ‘Weel, I hinna a lot o money, but I’ve money’ (he had change o this gold piece). An he says, ‘I’d like a game.’
He says, ‘Can you play at cards? We don’t play,’ he says, ‘with men that cannot play at cards.’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘I’ve practised a bittie in my day’ – twenty-one year he’d practised – he says, ‘I’ve practised a bittie o it in my day,’ but he sits doon, an he starts to play at cards. An the four of them plays an plays – but Jack . . . the Green Man o Knowledge wis a good card-player, but he couldnae beat Jack, ’cause Jack had aa his life played wi his collie. He could play cards!
But aathing’s comin Jack’s wey, so the ither two faas oot, but Jack an the Green Man of Knowledge plays an plays an plays up tae the early ’oors o the mornin.
Sae he looks at him, an he says, ‘Jack,’ he says, ‘ye’re maybe yir mother’s feel,’ he says, ‘but ye’re too good a man for me at cards.’ He says, ‘Good-bye, Jack.’
He says, ‘Wait a minute. Fa are ye?’
He says, ‘I’m the Green Man o Knowledge.’
‘Sae you’re the Green Man o Knowledge?’
‘Aye.’
He says, ‘Far dae ye bide?’
Scottish Traditional Tales Page 9