Brother Birdie
A traditional Slovak Folktale
Collected by Pavol Dobsinsky
Translated by David L. Cooper
Somewhere in a little cottage in the desolate forest there lived two children with their witch-stepmother, like two birdies with a cat. Their father came home from wood-cutting only occasionally, but even then the poor orphans didn’t dare to complain how their mother beat them and starved them, for they thought: It’s been bad until now, but afterwards it would be even worse!
And so they kept quiet and suffered. Their stepmother ran the house for herself alone, for her own gullet, as best she could, until she had run everything nicely into the ground. Once when her hungry husband was to come home from work, there wasn’t a thing in either the bin or the trunk. She began
to tug her bonnet to the right and then to the left on her head, trying to think what to cook for her husband. Then she had an unfortunate idea! Just as the boy ran inside with some wood chips, passing his sister, she shut the door behind him and with a long knife, swoosh! cut off the dear boy’s head! Then she butchered him, cut him up, put him in the pot, and cooked a sour soup from him.
When father came home, his dinner was already waiting on the table. He dug into it like a man, without noticing anything amiss. Why, he would have eaten even what the old devil himself placed before him, he was so hungry. The girl just looked on sadly from the corner at her unfortunate father; but she dared not say what she knew. She just gathered up the little bones one by one as they fell beneath the table, and when she had gathered them all, the poor child snuck out and buried them along the road beneath a green dog-rose.
In the morning at dawn a pretty little bird was chirping on the already-blooming dog-rose, chirping so shrilly, as if its heart were being cut open:
“Mommy put me to the knife, Daddy ate me whole.
And my sissy, that poor missy,
gathered up the bones and then
‘neath the dog-rose buried them:
Up sprouted a birdie,
a wretched little birdie.
Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!”
Some peddlers were just passing that way and stopped to hear the pretty bird. It touched them so much that upon leaving they placed their finest silk kerchief on the dog-rose, on the grave of the unfortunate orphan, for the song.
Soon after them some hatters came by, and the birdie just hopped about the green dog-rose and sang:
“Mommy put me to the knife, Daddy ate me whole.
And my sissy, that poor missy,
gathered up the bones and then
‘neath the dog-rose buried them:
Up sprouted a birdie,
a wretched little birdie.
Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!”
The master hatters stood stock still—they couldn’t even move until the song was over. Then they took out the nicest hat: “Eh,” one said, “since you sang so nicely for us, we shall give you something in exchange!” and hooked it on a thorn.
In a moment the birdie began again:
“Mommy put me to the knife, Daddy ate me whole.
And my sissy, that poor missy,
gathered up the bones and then
‘neath the dog-rose buried them:
Up sprouted a birdie,
a wretched little birdie.
Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!”
Some stone cutters who were passing by couldn’t get enough of that shrill song. “Eh,” one of them said, “since you sang so nicely for us, we’ll have to give you a nice stone on that green grave!”
And just as they said, so they did: they rolled the largest stone up under the dog-rose. During the night—gods only know how—the pretty birdie carried all the gifts to the top of father’s roof, and early in the morning it began to sing:
“Mommy put me to the knife, Daddy ate me whole.
And my sissy, that poor missy,
gathered up the bones and then
‘neath the dog-rose buried them:
Up sprouted a birdie,
a wretched little birdie.
Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!”
Sister ran out after the dear voice, asking who or what it was. She looked about on all sides, but she didn’t figure anything out until a pretty silk kerchief fell down into her hands.
Right behind her came father, marvelling. A brand-new hat fell on his head.
“What, in god’s name is going on?” said stepmother, running out in joy that something would remain for her too. Hardly had she stepped out from under the roof when—crash came the stone down on her head!
With that the birdie stopped singing and flew off, flew way off to the end of the world! Whoever wants to know more about him, let them go there.
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