Story - I see that (Chì mi sin)
or
The Tailor Who Didn't Believe in Ghosts
I started this a few days back and got bogged down - mostly because the version I prefer is mostly in English and I didn't care for the ones in Gaelic. ... And because I wrote it down in a letter for my niece which defused the pressure to post it here.
Today, however, I finally got back to it - cleared off what I had before and started a-new. So here it is.
Chì mi sin (I see that)
A long long time ago ....
There once was a tailor who didn't believe in ghosts.
At that time, many believed that ghosts and bogies haunted the graveyards of old ruined churches. In the town where this tailor lived, there was just such an old church that everyone believed was haunted. The tailor said that he would sew a pair of trousers in the church from bedtime to cockcrow.
His neighbours took him at his word. That very night, as soon at it was dark, they took him to the church and he went inside.
An hour went by, the church was as quiet as the grave. The tailor sat and sewed.
A second hour went by, it was twelve o'clock, midnight. At the last stroke, the tailor heard a horse whisper, coming out of the darkness.
"See ye yon great grey hungry head, tailor?"
He looked and there was a head rising up out of the ground between him and the window. He was afraid but he said, "That I see but this I sew" and he continued to sew.
A short while later he heard the same hoarse voice again whispering more loudly, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry throat, tailor?"
The horrid thing was closer but the tailor answered again, "That I see but this I sew".
A little while later, the hoarse voice spoke again still louder, "See ye yon large grizzled hungry shoulder, tailor?"
Answered the tailor a third time, "That I see, and this I sew." He sewed faster however.
It came closer and closer. "See ye yon long grizzled hungry body, tailor?" and again "See ye yon long grizzled hungry arms, tailor?"
Each time the tailor answered as was his custom, "That I see but this I sew." And each time, he sewed faster still.
The hoarse voice said, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry hand, tailor?" The hand was stretching toward the tailor, almost grabbing him.
There was a great fright on the tailor but he answered again, "That I see and this I sew." And he plied the needle faster and drew the stitches larger. He knew the time was coming for him to run away.
A short while later the hoarse voice, and it was extremely loud indeed, said, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry thigh, tailor?"
"That I see but this I sew," said the tailor. He finished up the work with two or three long stitches, tied the end tightly.
Said the hoarse voice, nigh on the tailor now, "See ye yon great grizzled hungry foot, tailor?"
The tailor blew out the candle and leapt toward the door and the dead man following him. The dead one almost had him when a cock began to crow and dead one fell back into his grave and the tailor returned home triumphant.
However, never again did he ever say that he didn't believe in ghosts.
The Tailor Who Didn't Believe in Ghosts
I started this a few days back and got bogged down - mostly because the version I prefer is mostly in English and I didn't care for the ones in Gaelic. ... And because I wrote it down in a letter for my niece which defused the pressure to post it here.
Today, however, I finally got back to it - cleared off what I had before and started a-new. So here it is.
Chì mi sin (I see that)
A long long time ago ....
There once was a tailor who didn't believe in ghosts.
At that time, many believed that ghosts and bogies haunted the graveyards of old ruined churches. In the town where this tailor lived, there was just such an old church that everyone believed was haunted. The tailor said that he would sew a pair of trousers in the church from bedtime to cockcrow.
His neighbours took him at his word. That very night, as soon at it was dark, they took him to the church and he went inside.
An hour went by, the church was as quiet as the grave. The tailor sat and sewed.
A second hour went by, it was twelve o'clock, midnight. At the last stroke, the tailor heard a horse whisper, coming out of the darkness.
"See ye yon great grey hungry head, tailor?"
He looked and there was a head rising up out of the ground between him and the window. He was afraid but he said, "That I see but this I sew" and he continued to sew.
A short while later he heard the same hoarse voice again whispering more loudly, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry throat, tailor?"
The horrid thing was closer but the tailor answered again, "That I see but this I sew".
A little while later, the hoarse voice spoke again still louder, "See ye yon large grizzled hungry shoulder, tailor?"
Answered the tailor a third time, "That I see, and this I sew." He sewed faster however.
It came closer and closer. "See ye yon long grizzled hungry body, tailor?" and again "See ye yon long grizzled hungry arms, tailor?"
Each time the tailor answered as was his custom, "That I see but this I sew." And each time, he sewed faster still.
The hoarse voice said, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry hand, tailor?" The hand was stretching toward the tailor, almost grabbing him.
There was a great fright on the tailor but he answered again, "That I see and this I sew." And he plied the needle faster and drew the stitches larger. He knew the time was coming for him to run away.
A short while later the hoarse voice, and it was extremely loud indeed, said, "See ye yon long grizzled hungry thigh, tailor?"
"That I see but this I sew," said the tailor. He finished up the work with two or three long stitches, tied the end tightly.
Said the hoarse voice, nigh on the tailor now, "See ye yon great grizzled hungry foot, tailor?"
The tailor blew out the candle and leapt toward the door and the dead man following him. The dead one almost had him when a cock began to crow and dead one fell back into his grave and the tailor returned home triumphant.
However, never again did he ever say that he didn't believe in ghosts.