Multilingual Folk Tale Database


Information

Author: Asbjørnsen & Moe - 1841

Translated into English
  by H. L. Brækstad

Original title (Norwegian):
Hanen som falt i bryggekaret

Country of origin: Norway

Story type: An Animal Mourns the Death of a Spouse (ATU 2022)

Translations

English - aligned


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The Cock Who Fell into the Brewing Vat

Asbjørnsen & Moe / H. L. Brækstad

Once upon a time there was a cook and a hen, who were out in a field scratching and scraping and pecking.
All at once the hen found a barleycorn, and the cock found a bur of hops, and so they made up their minds they would make some malt and brew beer for Christmas.

"I plucked the barley and I malted the corn and brewed the beer, and the beer is good," cackled the hen.

"Is the wort strong enough?" said the cock, and flew up to the edge of the vat to taste it; but when he stooped down to take a sip he began flapping with his wings and fell on his head into the vat and was drowned.

When the hen saw this she was quite beside herself. She flew onto the hearth and began to scream and cry, "Got, got, got, drowned! Got, got, got, drowned!" And this she went on crying all the time and would not stop.

"What is the matter with you, Mother Tup, since you are crying and grieving so?" asked the hand-quern.

"Oh, Father Tup has fallen into the brewing vat and got drowned and there he lies dead!" said the hen. "That's the reason I cry and grieve."

"Well, if I can't do anything else I will grind and groan," said the hand-quern, and began grinding as fast as it could.

When the stool heard this it said, "What's the matter with you, quern, since you groan and grind so fast?"

"Oh, Father Tup has fallen into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth, crying and grieving; therefore I grind and groan," said the hand-quern.

"Well, if I can't do anything else I shall creak," said the stool, and began creaking and cracking.

This the door heard, so it said, "What's the matter with you? Why are you creaking, stool?"

"Oh, Father Tup has fallen into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving and the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; therefore I creak and crack and crackle," said the stool.

"Well, if I can't do anything else I'll bang and slam and whine and whistle" said the door, and began opening and shutting and slamming and banging till it went through one's bones and marrow to hear it.

This the dustbin heard.

"Why are you slamming and banging like that, door?" said the bin.

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; therefore I keep slamming and banging," said the door.

"Well, if I can't do anything else I'll fume and smoke," said the dustbin, and began fuming and smoking and sending the dust up in clouds all over the room.

This the hay-rake saw, as it stood peeping in through the window.

"Why are you raising the dust like that, dustbin?" asked the rake.

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; the door is slamming and banging; therefore I keep fuming and smoking," said the dustbin.

"Well, if I can't do anything else I'll rake and rend," said the rake, and began rending and raking.

This the aspen tree saw as it looked on.

"Why do you rend and rake like that, rake? said the tree.

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; the door is slamming and banging; the dustbin is fuming and smoking; therefore I keep rending and raking," said the rake.

"Well, if I can't do anything else," said the aspen, "I will quiver and quake."

This the birds noticed. "Why do you quiver and quake like that?" said the birds to the tree.

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; the door is slamming and banging; the dustbin is fuming and smoking; the rake is rending and raking; therefore I quiver and quake," said the aspen.

"Well, if we can't do anything else we will pluck off our feathers," said the birds, and began pecking and plucking till the feathers flew about the farm like snow.

The farmer stood looking on, and when he saw the feathers flying about he asked the birds, "Why are you plucking off your feathers like that, birds?"

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; the door is slamming and banging; the dustbin is fuming and smoking; the rake is rending and raking; the aspen is quivering and quaking; therefore we keep pecking and plucking," said the birds.

"Well, if I can't do anything else I will pull the besoms to pieces," said the farmer, and began tugging and pulling the besoms to pieces, so that the twigs flew about, both east and west.

His wife was boiling the porridge for supper when she saw this. "Why are you pulling the besoms to pieces, husband?" said she.

"Oh, Father Tup fell into the brewing vat and got drowned; Mother Tup is sitting on the hearth crying and grieving; the hand-quern is grinding and groaning; the stool is creaking and cracking; the door is slamming and banging; the dustbin is fuming and smoking; the rake is rending and raking; the aspen is quivering and quaking; the birds are pecking and plucking off their feathers; therefore I am pulling the besom to pieces," said the man.

"Well, then I'll daub the walls all over with porridge," she said. And she set about it there and then, and took one ladleful after another and smeared the porridge all over the walls, so that no one could see what they were made of.

Then they kept the burial feast of the cock who fell into the brewing vat. And if you don't believe it, you had better go there and taste both the beer and the porridge.