The Singing Bone
and other tales of Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 780translated and/or edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 1999-2026
There were three brothers in the kingdom. The oldest was sly and clever; the second was of ordinary intelligence; but the third and youngest was innocent and slow witted. They wanted to win the princess, so they set forth to seek out the wild boar and kill it.
The two oldest ones went together, while the youngest one went by himself. When he entered the woods an old man approached him. He was holding a black lance in his hand, and said to him, "Take this lance and fearlessly attack the boar with it, and you will kill it." And that is what happened. He struck the boar with the lance, and it fell dead to the earth. Then he lifted it onto his shoulder, and cheerfully set off toward home.
On the way he came to a house where his brothers were making merry and drinking wine. When they saw him with the boar on his back, they called to him, "Come in and have a drink with us. You must be tired." The innocent simpleton, not thinking about any danger, went inside and told them how he had killed the boar with the black lance, and rejoiced in his good fortune. That evening they returned home together. The two oldest ones plotted to kill their brother. They let him walk ahead of them, and when they came to a bridge just outside the city, they attacked him, striking him dead. They buried him beneath the bridge. Then the oldest one took the boar, carried it to the king, claimed that he had killed it, and received the princess for a wife.
Many years passed, but it was not to remain hidden. One day a shepherd was crossing the bridge when he saw a little bone beneath him in the sand. It was so pure and snow-white that he wanted it to make a mouthpiece from, so he climbed down and picked it up. Afterward he made a mouthpiece from it for his horn, and when he put it to his lips to play, the little bone began to sing by itself:
Oh, dear shepherdThe shepherd took the horn to the king, and once again it sang the same words. After hearing this, the king had his people dig under the bridge, and they soon uncovered the skeleton. The two wicked brothers confessed their crime and were thrown into the water. The murdered brother's bones were laid to rest in a beautiful grave in the churchyard.
You are blowing on my bone.
My brothers struck me dead,
And buried me beneath the bridge,
To get the wild boar
For the daughter of the king.
But they met him in the bed of a dried-up stream, and knowing that he had the flower with him, one said to the other: "What shall we do to get the Lily from him, and so gain the crown?"
And the other replied : "Let us kill him."
And they did so, burying him in the sand.
As they were two, and there was only one flower, they cast lots for it, and the elder gained it. So he went home very delighted, and when he arrived, gave the Lily to his father the king, who proclaimed him heir to the crown.
But it happened that a shepherd passed by the spot where the youngest prince had been buried, and he saw a white reed projecting from the ground, so he cut it off and made a flute with it.
When he played it, it sang:
Play, play, good shepherd;Then the shepherd went on playing this until he passed before the palace; and the king, hearing the flute, went forth and called the shepherd, and said to him: "Play thy flute before me; I should like to hear it."
For the Blue Lily's blossom
They took my life away, and
Hid me in the river's bosom.
Then the shepherd entered the palace, and played the flute, and it repeated its song. So the king commanded his sons to be called, and said to the shepherd that he must show them where he had obtained that flute.
And the shepherd took them to the place where he had found the white reed, and the king said to his sons: "Have you murdered your brother?"
But they declared they had not. Then the king, their father, commanded them to dig at that spot, and they found the lad alive and well, but wanting a finger that he had had when buried, but which had served to make the flute.
Then the king punished his two wicked sons, and left the crown to the youngest, who lived and reigned many years, but always without one of his fingers.
"How is it that this meat has no bones?"
"Because bones are heavy, and meat is cheaper without bones. They give us more for the money."
The husband ate, and said nothing.
"How is it you don't eat meat?"
"You forget that I have no teeth. How do you expect me to eat meat without teeth?"
"That is true," said the husband, and he said nothing more, because he was afraid to grieve his wife, who was as wicked as she was ugly.
When one has twenty-five children one cannot think of them all the time, and one does not see if one or two are missing. One day, after his dinner, the husband asked for his children. When they were by him he counted them, and found only fifteen. He asked his wife where were the ten others. She answered that they were at their grandmother's, and every day she would send one more for them to get a change of air. That was true, every day there was one that was missing.
One day the husband was at the threshold of his house, in front of a large stone which was there. He was thinking of his children, and he wanted to go and get them at their grandmother's, when he heard voices that were saying:
Our mother killed us,
Our father ate us.
We are not in a coffin,
We are not in the cemetery.
At first he did not understand what that meant, but he raised the stone and saw a great quantity of bones, which began to sing again. He then understood that it was the bones of his children, whom his wife had killed, and whom he had eaten. Then he was so angry that he killed his wife, buried his children's bones in the cemetery, and stayed alone at his house.
From that time he never ate meat, because he believed it would always be his children that he would eat.
On his way home, de boy stop wid de gal. He t'inkin' some evil plan. Want dis bucket which was his sister. She would not consent to gi' him dis bucket. He t'ink it best to kill der sister. He kill de sister. He kill dis girl near to a big oak-tree. An' he hide her dere.
After he kill her, he go home. Can't give no account a he sister. Dey all went to search for de girl, but none can find her.
Der broder stay home. Month gone. Shepherd-boy dat is comin' down de mountain meet a big bone like a flute. He pick dis bone under dat same tree. He took up de bone an' play. Comin' home wid de flock, he play on de bone. It play a sweet tune:
My broder has killed me in de woods, an' den he buryth me.
My broder has killed me in de woods, an' den he buryth me
Under de green ol' oak-tree, an' den he buryth me.
Dat's all it could play. It play sweet, you know. Comin' home, all dat hear dis tune beg de boy for a play on it. He give dem a play. Now he way down de mountain. Mos' to where de moder is livin'. He meet de moder. She ask him for a play. He give her a play. As quick as she play, t'ing say:
My dear moder, my dear moder, it my dead bone you play.
My dear moder, my dear moder, it my dead bone you play.
She drop an' faint, but never die. All de people was lookin' for de girl. Dis broder meet de boy. He ask him for a play. Take de bone an' start. T'ing say:
My broder, it is you dat has killed me.
My broder, it is you dat has killed me.
An' dere he faints an' dies. Dat is de end a da green ol' oak-tree.
The sons set out in search of it.
The youngest met an old man, who asked him what he was doing. He replied, "Papa is ill. To cure him a feather of the griffin in necessary. And papa has said that whoever finds the feather shall have his crown."
The old man said, "Well, here is some corn. When you reach a certain place, put it in your hat. The griffin will come and eat it. Seize him, pull out a feather, and carry it to papa."
The youth did so, and for fear that someone should steal it from him, he put it into his shoe, and started all joyful to carry it to his father. On his way he met his brothers, who asked him if he had found the feather. He said, "No," but his brothers did not believe him, and wanted to search him. They looked everywhere, but did not find it. Finally they looked in his shoe and got it. Then they killed the youngest brother and buried him, and took the feather to their father, saying that they had found it. The king healed his eyes with it.
A shepherd one day, while feeding his sheep, saw that his dog was always digging in the same place, and went to see what it was, and found a bone. He put it into his mouth, and saw that it sounded and said, "Shepherd, keep me in your mouth, hold me tight, and do not let me go! For a feather of the griffin, my brother has played the traitor, my brother has played the traitor."
One day the shepherd, with his whistle in his mouth, was passing by the king's palace, and the king heard him, and called him to see what it was. the shepherd told him the story, and how he had found it. The king put it to his mouth, and the whistle said, "Papa! Papa! Keep me in your mouth, hold me tight, and do not let me go. For a feather of the griffin, my brother has played the traitor, my brother has played the traitor."
Then the king put it in the mouth of the brother who had killed the youngest, and the whistle said, "Brother! Brother! Keep me in you mouth, hold me fast, and do not let me go. For a feather of the griffin, you have played the traitor, you have played the traitor."
Then the king understood the story and had his two sons put to death. And thus they killed their brother and afterwards were killed themselves.
So the two set forth together, and while searching in the woods they separated, and the girl was the first one to find the flower. She thought she would wait for her brother, so she put the flower in her hand, closed it in God's name, and lay down in the shade.
Then the boy came to her. He had not found the flower, but when he saw it in his sister's hand, a terrible thought came to him: "I will murder my sister, take the flower home with me, and then I will become king."
That is what he thought, and that is what he did. He killed her and buried her in the woods, covering with earth so that no one would know what had happened.
Many years later a shepherd boy who was there tending his sheep found one of the girl's bones lying on the ground. He made a few holes in it like a flute, and blew into it. Then the bone began to sing ever so sadly and told the entire story how the girl had been killed by her brother. To hear the song would bring tears to your eyes.
One day a knight came by where the boy was playing the flute. He bought the flute and played it wherever he went in the land. Finally the old queen heard the knight and became very sad. She had her son removed from the throne, and she mourned for the rest of her life.
Many years passed, and the boys' bones hung unavenged on a cliffy bank of the mountain creek. From time to time a particularly strong rush of water would pick up one of the little bones, play with it for a while, and then leave it lying on a remote bank.
Once it happened that there was a fair in the valley. Everyone was making merry. The wicked herdsman, drugged by the wine, music, and dance, had lost all humility and good sense, and was reveling in his sinfulness. It was too hot for him inside, so he went out to the creek, which, swollen by a heavy, warm rain, was rushing by much stronger than usual. He kneeled down and took off his hat to scoop up some water. He drank the water that had run into his hat, but at the bottom he found a small white bone. He stuck it onto his hat and returned to the hall.
Suddenly the little bone began to bleed; and now everyone knew what had happened to the boy. The festivities were quickly brought to a close, and the evildoer was taken forthwith to the place of execution.
.
So one fine morning, fair and clear, she said to her sister, "Let us go and see our father's boats come in at the bonny mill stream of Binnorie."
So they went there hand in hand. And when they came to the river's bank the youngest got upon a stone to watch for the beaching of the boats. And her sister, coming behind her, caught her round the waist and dashed her into the rushing mill stream of Binnorie.
"Oh sister, sister, reach me your hand!" she cried, as she floated away, "and you shall have half of all I've got or shall get."
"No, sister, I'll reach you no hand of mine, for I am the heir to all your land. Shame on me if I touch her hand that has come 'twixt me and my own heart's love."
"Oh sister, oh sister, then reach me your glove!" she cried, as she floated further away, "and you shall have your William again."
"Sink on," cried the cruel princess, "no hand or glove of mine you'll touch. Sweet William will be all mine when you are sunk beneath the bonny mill stream of Binnorie." And she turned and went home to the king's castle.
And the princess floated down the mill stream, sometimes swimming and sometimes sinking, until she came near the mill. Now the miller's daughter was cooking that day, and needed water for her cooking. And as she went to draw it from the stream, she saw something floating towards the mill dam, and she called out, "Father! father! draw your dam. There's something white -- a merrymaid or a milk white swan -- coming down the stream." So the miller hastened to the dam and stopped the heavy cruel mill wheels. And then they took out the princess and laid her on the bank.
Fair and beautiful she looked as she lay there. In her golden hair were pearls and precious stones; you could not see her waist for her golden girdle, and the golden fringe of her white dress came down over her lily feet. But she was drowned, drowned!
And as she lay there in her beauty a famous harper passed by the mill dam of Binnorie, and saw her sweet pale face. And though he traveled on far away he never forgot that face, and after many days he came back to the bonny mill stream of Binnorie. But then all he could find of her where they had put her to rest were her bones and her golden hair. So he made a harp out of her breast bone and her hair, and traveled on up the hill from the mill dam of Binnorie, until he came to the castle of the king her father.
That night they were all gathered in the castle hall to hear the great harper: king and queen, their daughter and son, Sir William, and all their court. And first the harper sang to his old harp, making them joy and be glad, or sorrow and weep just as he liked. But while he sang he put the harp he had made that day on a stone in the hall. And presently it began to sing by itself, low and clear, and the harper stopped and all were hushed.
And this was what the harp sung:
Oh yonder sits my father, the king,Then they all wondered, and the harper told them how he had seen the princess lying drowned on the bank near the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie, and how he had afterwards made this harp out of her hair and breast bone. Just then the harp began singing again, and this was what it sang out loud and clear:
Binnorie, oh Binnorie;
And yonder sits my mother, the queen;
By the bony mill dams o' Binnorie.And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
Binnorie, oh Binnorie;
And by him, my William, false and true;
By the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie.
And there sits my sister who drownèd meAnd the harp snapped and broke, and never sang more.
By the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie.
When the day came, the priest waited until all the people were inside the church, and then fastened up the skull to the top of the porch. After the service the priest and his servant left the church first, and stood outside the door, watching carefully everybody that came out. When all the congregation had passed out without anything strange occurring, they looked in to see if there was any one still remaining inside. The only person they saw was a very old woman sitting behind the door, who was so unwilling to leave the church, that they were compelled to force her out.
As she passed under the porch, three drops of blood fell from the skull on to her white head-dress, and she exclaimed, "Alas, murder will out at last!"
Then she confessed, that having been compelled to marry her first husband against her will, she had killed him with a knitting-pin and married another.
She was tried for the murder, though it had happened so many years back, and condemned to death.
There lived once a peasant with his wife and three daughters. Two of these girls were not particularly beautiful, while the third was sweetly pretty. However, as she happened to be a very good girl, as well as simple in her tastes, she was nicknamed Simpleton, and all who knew her called her by that name, though she was in reality far from being one.
Her sisters thought of nothing but dress and jewelry. The consequence was that they did not agree with their younger sister. They teased her, mimicked her, and made her do all the hard work. Yet Simpleton never said a word of complaint, but was ready to do anything. She fed the cows and the poultry. If anyone asked her to bring anything, she brought it in a moment. In fact, she was a most obliging young person.
One day the peasant had to go to a big fair to sell hay, so he asked his two eldest daughters what he should bring them.
"Bring me some red fustian to make myself a sarafan [coat without sleeves]," said the eldest.
"Buy me some yards of nankeen to make myself a dress," said the second.
Simpleton meanwhile sat in a corner looking at her sisters with great eagerness. Though she was a simpleton, her father found it hard to go away without asking her what she would like him to bring her, so he asked her too.
"Bring me, dear father," said she, "a silver plate and a transparent apple to roll about on it."
The father was rather astonished, but he said nothing and left.
"Whatever made you ask for such rubbish?" asked her sisters laughing.
"You will see for yourselves when my father brings them," said Simpleton, as she left the room.
The peasant, after having sold his hay, bought his daughters the things they had asked for, and drove home. The two elder girls were delighted with their presents and laughed at Simpleton, waiting to see what she intended doing with the silver plate and transparent apple.
Simpleton did not eat the apple, as they at first thought she would, but sat in a corner pronouncing these words, "Roll away, apple, roll away, on this silver plate. Show me different towns, fields, and woods, the seas, the heights of the hills, and the heavens in all their glory."
Away rolled the apple, and on the plate became visible, towns, one after another. Ships were seen sailing on the seas. Green fields were seen. The heights of the hills were shown. The beauty of the heavens and the setting of the sun were all displayed most wonderfully.
The sisters looked on in amazement. They longed to have it for themselves and wondered how they could best get it from Simpleton, for she took such great care of it, and would take nothing in exchange.
At last one day the wicked sisters said coaxingly to Simpleton, "Come with us, dear, into the forest and help us pick strawberries."
Simpleton gave the plate and the apple to her father to take care of and joined her sisters. When they arrived at the forest they set to work picking wild strawberries. After some time the two elder sisters suddenly came upon a spade lying on the grass. They seized it, and while Simpleton was not looking they gave her a heavy blow with the spade. She turned ghastly pale, and fell dead on the ground.
They took her up quickly, buried her under a birch tree, and went home late to their parents, saying, "Simpleton has run away from us. We looked for her everywhere but cannot find her. She must have been eaten up by some wild beasts while we were not looking."
The father, who really had a little love for the girl, became very sad, and actually cried. He took the plate and apple and locked them both up carefully in a glass case. The sisters also cried very much and pretended to be very sorry, though the real reason was that they found out that they were not likely to have the transparent apple and plate after all, but would have to do all the hard work themselves.
One day a shepherd, who was minding a flock of sheep, happened to lose one, and went into the forest to look for it, when suddenly he came upon a hillock under a birch tree, round which grew a number of red and blue flowers, and among them a reed.
The young shepherd cut off the reed and made himself a pipe. But what was his astonishment when the moment he put the pipe to his mouth, it began to play by itself, saying, "Play, play, little pipe. Comfort my dear parents, and my sisters, who so cruelly misused me, killed me, and buried me for the sake of my silver plate and transparent apple."
The shepherd ran into the village greatly alarmed, and a crowd of people soon collected round him asking him what had happened. The shepherd again put the pipe to his mouth, and again the pipe began to play of itself.
"Who killed whom, and where, and how?" asked all the people together, crowding round.
"Good people," answered the shepherd, "I know no more than you do. All I know is that I lost one of my sheep and went in search of it, when I suddenly came upon a hillock under a birch tree with flowers round it, and among them was a reed, which I cut off and made into a pipe, and the moment I put the thing into my mouth it began to play of itself, and pronounce the words which you have just heard."
It so happened that Simpleton's father and sisters were among the crowd and heard what the shepherd said.
"Let me try your pipe," said the father, taking it and putting it into his mouth.
And immediately it began to repeat the words, "Play, play, little pipe. Comfort my dear parents, and my sisters, who misused, killed, and buried me for the sake of the silver plate and transparent apple."
The peasant made the shepherd take him to the hillock at once. When they got to it they began to dig open the hillock, where they found the dead body of the unfortunate girl. The father fell on his knees before it and tried to bring her back to life, but all in vain.
The people again began asking who it was that killed and buried her, whereupon the pipe replied, "My sisters took me into the forest and slew me for the silver plate and transparent apple. If you want to wake me from this sound slumber, you must bring me the water of life from the royal fountain."
The two miserable sisters turned pale and wanted to run away, whereupon the people seized them, tied them together, and marched them off to a dark cell, where they locked them up until the king should pronounce judgement on them.
The peasant went to the palace and was brought before the king's son, and falling upon his knees before the prince, he related the whole story. Whereupon the king's son told him to take as much of the water of life from the royal fountain as he pleased. "When your daughter is well, bring her to me," continued the prince, "and also her evil-minded sisters."
The peasant was delighted. He thanked the young prince and ran to the forest with the water of life. After he had sprinkled the body several times with the water, his daughter woke up and stood before him, prettier than ever. They embraced each other tenderly, while the people rejoiced and congratulated the happy man.
Next morning the peasant went with his three daughters to the palace and was brought before the king's son.
The young prince, when he beheld Simpleton, was greatly struck with her beauty and asked her at once to show him the silver plate and transparent apple.
"What would your highness like to see?" asked the girl, bringing forward her treasures. "Would you like to know whether your kingdom is in good order, or if your ships are sailing, or whether there is any curious comet in the heavens?"
"Anything you like, sweet maiden."
Away rolled the apple round about the plate, on which became visible soldiers of different arms, with muskets and flags, drawn up in battle array. The apple rolled on, and waves rose, and ships were seen sailing about like swans, while flags waved in the air. On rolled the apple, and on the plate the glory of the heavens was displayed. The sun, moon, and stars, and various comets were seen.
The king's son was greatly astonished and offered to buy the plate and apple, but Simpleton fell on her knees before him, exclaiming, "Take my silver plate and my apple. I want no money and no gifts for them, if you will only promise to forgive my sisters."
The young prince was so moved by her pretty face and her tears that he at once forgave the two wicked girls. Simpleton was so overjoyed that she threw her arms round their necks and tenderly embraced them.
The king's son took Simpleton by the hand and said, "Sweet maiden, I am so struck by the great kindness you have shown your sisters after their cruel treatment of you, that I have decided (provided you agree to it) to have you for my wife, and you shall be known henceforth as the Benevolent Queen."
"Your highness does me great honor," said Simpleton, blushing. "But it lies in my parents' hand. If they do not object, I will marry you."
It is needless to say that neither parent objected, but gave their consent and blessing.
"I have one more request to ask your highness," said Simpleton, "and that is to let my parents and sisters live with us in the palace."
The young prince made no objection whatever to this proposal (though most probably he felt sorry for it afterwards; however, the story does not say anything about that). The sisters threw themselves at Simpleton's feet, exclaiming that they did not deserve such kindness after all that they had said and done to her.
Next day the marriage was celebrated, and crowds of people ran about everywhere crying out, "Long live our king and queen!"
From that day Simpleton was no more, but the BENEVOLENT QUEEN reigned in her stead.
But one day came a great big wolf, and looked hungrily at the small shepherd and his fat sheep, saying, "Little boy! shall I eat you, or your sheep?"
Then the little boy answered politely, "I don't know Mr. Wolf; I must ask my auntie."
So all day long he piped away on his tiny pipe, and in the evening, when he brought the flock home, he went to his auntie and said, "Auntie dear, a great big wolf asked me today if he should eat me, or your sheep. Which shall it be?"
Then his auntie looked at the wee little shepherd, and at the fat flock, and said sharply, "Which shall it be? Why, you, of course!"
So next morning the little boy drove his flock out into the pathless plain, and blew away cheerfully on his shepherd's pipe until the great big wolf appeared. Then he laid aside his pipe, and, going up to the savage beast, said, "Oh, if you please, Mr. Wolf, I asked my auntie, and she says you are to eat me."
Now the wolf, savage as wolves always are, could not help having just a spark of pity for the tiny barefoot shepherd who played his pipe so sweetly, therefore he said kindly, "Could I do anything for you, little boy, after I've eaten you?"
"Thank you!" returned the tiny shepherd. "If you would be so kind, after you've picked the bones, as to thread my ankle-bone on a string and hang it on the tree that weeps over the pond yonder, I shall be much obliged."
So the wolf ate the little shepherd, picked the bones, and afterwards hung the ankle-bone by a string to the branches of the tree, where it danced and swung in the sunlight.
Now, one day, three robbers, who had just robbed a palace, happening to pass that way, sat down under the tree and began to divide the spoil. Just as they had arranged all the golden dishes and precious jewels and costly stuffs into three heaps, a jackal howled. Now you must know that thieves always use the jackal's cry as a note of warning, so that when at the very same moment Little Anklebone's thread snapped, and he fell plump on the head of the chief robber, the man imagined some one had thrown a pebble at him, and, shouting "Run! run! We are discovered!" he bolted away as hard as he could, followed by his companions, leaving all the treasure behind them.
"Now," said Little Anklebone to himself, "I shall lead a fine life!"
So he gathered the treasure together, and sat under the tree that drooped over the pond, and played so sweetly on a new shepherd's pipe, that all the beasts of the forest, and the birds of the air, and the fishes of the pond came to listen to him. Then Little Anklebone put marble basins round the pond for the animals to drink out of, and in the evening the does, and the tigresses, and the she-wolves gathered round him to be milked, and when he had drank his fill he milked the rest into the pond, till at last it became a pond of milk. And Little Anklebone sat by the milken pond and piped away on his shepherd's pipe.
Now, one day, an old woman, passing by with her jar for water, heard the sweet strains of Little Anklebone's pipe, and following the sound, came upon the pond of milk, and saw the animals, and the birds, and the fishes, listening to the music. She was wonderstruck, especially when Little Anklebone, from his seat under the tree, called out, "Fill your jar, mother! All drink who come hither!"
Then the old woman filled her jar with milk, and went on her way rejoicing at her good fortune. But as she journeyed she met with the king of that country, who, having been a-hunting, had lost his way in the pathless plain.
"Give me a drink of water, good mother," he cried, seeing the jar; "I am half dead with thirst!"
"It is milk, my son," replied the old woman; "I got it yonder from a milken pond."
Then she told the king of the wonders she had seen, so that he resolved to have a peep at them himself. And when he saw the milken pond, and all the animals and birds and fishes gathered round, while Little Anklebone played ever so sweetly on his shepherd's pipe, he said "I must have the tiny piper, if I die for it!"
No sooner did Little Anklebone hear these words than he set off at a run, and the king after him. Never was there such a chase before or since, for Little Anklebone hid himself amid the thickest briars and thorns, and the king was so determined to have the tiny piper, that he did not care for scratches. At last the king was successful, but no sooner did he take hold of Little Anklebone than it began to thunder and lighten horribly, whilst the little piper himself began to sing these words:
Oh why do you thunder and lighten, dark heavens?Whereupon the King, seeing that it really was nothing but an ankle-bone after all, let it go.
Your noise is as nothing to what will arise,
When the does that are waiting in vain for the milking,
Find poor Little Anklebone reft from their eyes!
So the little piper went back to his seat under the tree by the pond, and there he sits still, and plays his shepherd's pipe, while all the beasts of the forest, and birds of the air, and fishes of the pond, gather round and listen to his music. And sometimes, people wandering through the pathless plain hear the pipe, and then they say, "That is Little Anklebone, who was eaten by a wolf ages ago!"
At noon when she went to bring water, it suddenly dried up before her, and she began to weep. Then after a while the water began slowly to rise. When it reached her ankles she tried to fill her pitcher, but it would not go under the water. Being frightened she began to wail and cry to her brother:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my ankles,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water continued to rise until it reached her knee, when she began to wail again:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my knee,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water continued to rise, and when it reached her waist, she cried again:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my waist,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water still rose, and when it reached her neck she kept on crying:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my neck,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
At length the water became so deep that she felt herself drowning, then she cried aloud:
Oh! my brother, the water measures a man's height,
Oh! my brother, the pitcher begins to fill.
The pitcher filled with water, and along with it she sank and was drowned. The bonga then transformed her into a bonga like himself, and carried her off.
After a time she reappeared as a bamboo growing on the embankment of the tank in which she had been drowned. When the bamboo had grown to an immense size, a jogi, who was in the habit of passing that way, seeing it, said to himself, "This will make a splendid fiddle."
So one day he brought an ax to cut it down; but when he was about to begin, the bamboo called out, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up." When he lifted his ax to cut high up the stem, the bamboo cried out, "Do not cut near the top, cut at the root." When the jogi again prepared himself to cut at the root as requested, the bamboo said, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up;" and when he was about to cut higher up, it again called out to him, "Do not cut high up, cut at the root." The jogi by this time felt sure that a bonga was trying to frighten him, so becoming angry he cut down the bamboo at the root, and taking it away made a fiddle out of it. The instrument had a superior tone and delighted all who heard it. The jogi carried it with him when he went a begging, and through the influence of its sweet music he returned home every evening with a full wallet.
He now and then visited, when on his rounds, the house of the bonga girl's brothers, and the strains of the fiddle affected them greatly. Some of them were moved even to tears, for the fiddle seemed to wail as one in bitter anguish. The elder brother wished to purchase it, and offered to support the jogi for a whole year if he would consent to part with his wonderful instrument. The jogi, however, knew its value, and refused to sell it.
It so happened that the jogi some time after went to the house of a village chief, and after playing a tune or two on his fiddle asked for something to eat. They offered to buy his fiddle and promised a high price for it, but he refused to sell it, as his fiddle brought to him his means of livelihood. When they saw that he was not to be prevailed upon, they gave him food and a plentiful supply of liquor. Of the latter he drank so freely that he presently became intoxicated. While he was in this condition, they took away his fiddle, and substituted their own old one for it. When the jogi recovered, he missed his instrument, and suspecting that it had been stolen asked them to return it to him. They denied having taken it, so he had to depart, leaving his fiddle behind him. The chief's son, being a musician, used to play on the jogi's fiddle, and in his hands the music it gave forth delighted the ears of all who heard it.
When all the household were absent at their labors in the fields, the bonga girl used to come out of the bamboo fiddle, and prepared the family meal. Having eaten her own share, she placed that of the chief's son under his bed, and covering it up to keep off the dust, reentered the fiddle. This happening every day, the other members of the household thought that some girl friend of theirs was in this manner showing her interest in the young man, so they did not trouble themselves to find out how it came about. The young chief, however, was determined to watch, and see which of his girl friends was so attentive to his comfort. He said in his own mind, "I will catch her today, and give her a sound beating; she is causing me to be ashamed before the others." So saying, he hid himself in a corner in a pile of firewood. In a short time the girl came out of the bamboo fiddle, and began to dress her hair. Having completed her toilet, she cooked the meal of rice as usual, and having eaten some herself, she placed the young man's portion under his bed, as before, and was about to enter the fiddle again, when he, running out from his hiding place, caught her in his arms. The bonga girl exclaimed, "Fie! Fie! You may be a dom, or you may be a hadi of some other caste with whom I cannot marry."
He said, "No. But from today, you and I are one." So they began lovingly to hold converse with each other. When the others returned home in the evening, they saw that she was both a human being and a bonga, and they rejoiced exceedingly.
Now in course of time the bonga girl's family became very poor, and her brothers on one occasion came to the chief's house on a visit. The bonga girl recognized them at once, but they did not know who she was. She brought them water on their arrival, and afterwards set cooked rice before them. Then sitting down near them, she began in wailing tones to upbraid them on account of the treatment she had been subjected to by their wives. She related all that had befallen her, and wound up by saying, "You must have known it all, and yet you did not interfere to save me." And that was all the revenge she took.
One day as they were consulting what to do to get the tank to fill, they saw a Jogi coming towards them with a lota in his hand; they at once called to him to come and advise them, for they thought that, as he spent his time wandering from country to country, he might somewhere have learned some thing which would be of use to them.
All the Jogi said to them was: "You have a sister. If you sacrifice her, the tank will fill with water."
The brothers were fond of the girl, but in their despair at seeing their labour wasted they agreed to give the advice of the Jogi a trial. So they told their mother the next day that, when their sister brought them out their midday meal, she was to be dressed in her best and carry the rice in a new basket and must bring a new water pot to draw their water in.
At midday the girl went down to her brothers with her best cloth and all her jewellry on; and when they saw their victim coming they could not keep from tears. She asked them what they were grieving for; they told her that nothing was the matter and sent her to draw water in her new water pot from the dry tank. Directly the girl drew near to the bank the water began to bubble up from the bottom; and when she went down to the water's edge it rose to her instep.
She bent down to fill her pot but the pot would not fill though the water rose higher and higher; then she sang:
The water has risen, brother,But the water rose to her knees and the pot would not fill, and she sang:
And wetted my ankle, brother,
But still the lota in my hand
Will not sink below the surface.
The water has risen, brother,Then the water rose to her waist and the pot would not fill, and she sang:
And wetted my knees, brother,
But still the lota in my hand
Will not sink below the surface.
The water has risen, brother,Then the water reached her neck and the pot would not fill, and she sang:
And wetted my waist, brother,
But still the lota in my hand
Will not sink below the surface.
The water has risen, brother,At last it flowed over her head and the water pot was filled, but the girl was drowned. The tank however remained brimful of sparkling water.
And wetted my neck, brother,
But still the lota in my hand
Will not sink below the surface.
Now the unhappy girl had been betrothed, and her wedding day was just at hand. On the day fixed the marriage broker came to announce the approach of the bridegroom, who shortly afterwards arrived at the outskirts of the village in his palki. The seven brothers met him, and the usual dancing began.
The bridegroom's party however wished to know why the bride did not appear. The brothers put them off with various excuses, saying that the girl had gone with her friends to gather firewood or to the river to draw water.
At last the bridegroom's party got tired of waiting and turned to go home in great wrath at the way in which they had been treated. On their way they passed by the tank in which the girl had been sacrificed and, growing in the middle of it, they saw a most beautiful flower.
The bridegroom at once determined to possess this, and he told his drummers to pick it for him; but whenever one of them tried to pick it, the flower moved out of his reach and a voice came from the flower saying:
Take the flower, drummer,When they told him what the flower sang the bridegroom said that he would try and pick it himself; no sooner had he reached the bank than the flower of its own accord floated towards him, and he pulled it up by the roots and took it with him into the palki. After they had gone a little way the palki bearers felt the palki strangely heavy: and when they looked in they found the bride also sitting in it, dressed in yellow garments; for the flower was really the girl who had been drowned.
But the branch you must not break.
So they joyfully took the happy couple with drumming and music to the bridegroom's house.
In a short time misfortune befell the seven brothers; they fell into the deepest poverty and were forced to earn what they could by selling leaves and sticks which they gathered in the jungle. As they went about selling these, they one day came to the village where their sister was living and as they cried their wares through the streets they were told to go to the house where the marriage had taken place. They went there, and as they were selling their leaf plates their sister saw and recognised them; they had only ragged loincloths on, and their skins were black and cracked like a crocodile's.
At the sight their sister began to cry. Her friends asked what was the matter and she said a straw from the thatch had run into her eye, so they pulled down some of the thatch; she still went on crying and they again asked what was wrong; she said that she had knocked her foot against a stone in the ground; so they dug up the stone and threw it away. But she still went on weeping and at last confessed that the miserable-looking leaf-sellers were her brothers.
Then her husband's parents told her to be comforted, and they gave the brothers oil and bade them go and bathe and oil their bodies: but the brothers were so hungry that when they got to the bathing place they drank the oil and ate the oil cake that had been given to them; and came back with their skins as rough as when they went. So then they were given more oil and some of the household went with them and made them bathe and oil themselves properly and then brought them to the house and gave them new clothes and made them a feast of meat and rice.
According to the custom of the country they were made to sit down in order of age and were helped in that order; when they had all been helped and had eaten, their sister said to them: "Now brothers you come running to me for food, and yet you sacrificed me in the tank."
Then they were overwhelmed with shame. They looked up at the sky but there was no escape there. They looked down at the earth, and the earth split open and they all ran into the chasm.
The sister tried to catch the youngest brother by the hair and pull him out, calling "Come back, brother, come back brother, you shall carry my baby about for me!" but his hair came off in her hand and the earth swallowed them all up.
Their sister planted the hair in a corner of the garden and it is said that from that human hair, sabai grass originated.
One very hot day they had been hunting since dawn and began to feel very thirsty; so they searched for water but could find none. Then one of them climbed a tree and from its summit saw a beautiful pool of water close by. So he came down and they all went in the direction in which he had seen the water; but they could not find it anywhere. So another of the brothers climbed a tree and he called out that he could see the pool close by, but when he came down and led them in what he thought was the right direction he was equally unable to find the water.
And so it went on; whenever they climbed a tree they could see the water close by, but when on the ground they could not find it; and all the time they were suffering tortures from thirst.
Then they saw that some bonga was deluding them and that they must offer some sacrifice to appease him.
At first they proposed to devote one of their wives to the bonga; but not one of the brothers was willing that his wife should be the victim; and they had no children to offer so at last they decided to dedicate their only sister as the sacrifice.
Then they prayed: "Ye who are keeping the water from us, listen; we dedicate to you our only sister; show us where the water is."
No sooner had they said this than they saw a pool of water close beside them and hastened to it and quenched their thirst. Then they rested and began to discuss how they should sacrifice their sister; and at last they decided that as they had devoted her to the bonga because they wanted water, it would be best to cast her into the water; and they planned to go and work one day near a pond of theirs and make their sister bring their breakfast out to them and then drown her.
So they went home, and two or three days later the eldest brother said that the time had come for the sacrifice; but the two youngest loved their sister very much and begged for a little delay. Out of pity the others agreed; but almost at once one of the brothers fell ill and was like to die.
Medicines were tried but had no effect; then they called in an ojha, and he told them that the bonga to whom they had made the vow while out hunting had caused the illness, and that if they did not fulfil the vow their brother would die. Then they all went to the sick man's bedside and poured out water on the ground and swore that they would fulfil their vow; no sooner had they done so than the sick man was restored to health.
So the very next day they arranged to go and level the field near their pond, and they told their wives to send their sister to them with their breakfast. When the time came the girl took out their breakfast and put it down by them, and they sent her to draw water for them from the pond, but when she put her water pot down to the surface it would not sink so as to let the water run in.
The girl called out to her brothers that the pot would not fill.
They told her to go a little further into the water; so she went in till the water was up to her thighs, but still the pot would not fill. Then they called to her to go in further, and she went in waist deep, but still it would not fill. Then she went in up to her neck, and still it would not fill. Then she went in a little further, and the water closed over her, and she was drowned.
At this sight the brothers threw away the food which she had brought and hastened home.
Some days later the body rose and floated to the bank and at the place where it lay a bamboo sprang up and grew and flourished. One day a Dom [a low-caste musician] went to cut it down to make a flute of.
As he raised his axe the voice of the girl spoke from within the bamboo: "O Dom, do not cut high up; cut low down."
The Dom looked about but could not see who it was who spoke. However, he obeyed the voice and cut the bamboo close to the ground and made a flute of it. The sound of the flute was surpassingly sweet and the Dom used to play on it every day. One day he was playing on it at a friend's house and a Santal heard it and was so taken by its sweet tone that he came at night and stole it.
Having got possession of it he used to play on it constantly and always keep it by him. Every night the flute became a woman, and the Santal found her in his house without knowing where she came from and used to spend the night talking to her, but towards morning she used to go outside the house on some pretext and disappear.
But one night as she was about to depart, the Santal seized her and forced her to stay with him. Then she retained her human form, but the flute was never seen afterwards; so they called the girl the Flute Girl, and she and the Santal were betrothed and soon afterwards married.
The stepmother however in her heart of hearts detested her -- the fear of her husband's anger and displeasure only made her look after and take care of the child.
The child grew in the meantime and when she became about ten or eleven years of age, her father got her to make friends with the daughter of a well-to-do man of the village, a girl of the same age as herself.
Tejimola's father could not do without merchandise, and business took him about from place to place. He had on one occasion to go out on business for about six or seven months.
When the time came for him to depart, he called his wife to him and bade her look after the child during his absence, saying, "Now that I have to go on business, I am leaving Tejimola entirely in your hands. Do look after her, love her and tend her carefully, the dear little child."
The merchant's wife thought that this was her opportunity, and she could do as she liked with her and could ill-treat her to her heart's content. She then, on second thoughts, said to herself that it would not be wise merely to stop at ill-treating and beating her, for she must somehow or other find some means of doing away with her altogether -- for she was but her stepdaughter, and at the time of her marriage her father would give her a large dowry, perhaps of jewellery and furniture much cherished and stored so long by her -- why should her stepdaughter get the advantage of those things? She might just as well send the things home to her mother: It was better to do away with her altogether.
From that very day, the day when her husband's boat left the village, she was looking for some loophole or other in the child's conduct to chastise her, and actually did cause the poor girl to suffer for nothing on the slightest pretence.
And now her friend's wedding was approaching -- it was to take place the day after. Tejimola's greatest desire was to assist at the wedding and to stay with her friend for three or four days during the marriage festivities. Her friend too was very anxious that she should do so.
Now the stepmother saw that her long looked for chance had come and gave her permission to go to the wedding. She made a great fuss and showed a great deal of concern on behalf of the girl, and discussed before a number of people what dresses Tejimola should wear during the festivities, whether this riha [breastcloth] would go well with this mekhla [lower garment] and whether she should wear that other sort of mekhla with that riha.
She had a lovely silk riha and fine silk mekhla and a gold-embroidered khonia wrapper -- at last she brought them out and said to her, "My dear, wear these when you are at your friend's house. I had better make them up into a parcel. You go as you are now and wear these just as you are about to reach your friend's place. If you were to wear them now they would get soiled and would not be worth wearing them."
And she secretly put a mouse in between the riha and the mekhla and some embers in the khonia and packing them all up into a dainty parcel handed them over to Tejimola Just as she was about to reach her friend's house, she unpacked the parcel, but lo and behold, a mouse sprang out from the riha and mekhla and some burnt ashes dropped from the khonia! And there was consternation in her face when she found that the mouse had torn the riha and the mekhla into shreds and the gold embroidered wrapper was burnt into many holes.
She was frightened almost to death, and she began to quake in fear and sob aloud. The attendant, who was with her, was also very much surprised at this, and he tried his best to console her. He got her a pair of riha and mekhla from her friend's house, and she managed to witness and enjoy the festivities with that dress.
On her return home after the wedding, when the stepmother asked for her clothes she quaked with fear and dropped the torn and burnt clothes before her. The stepmother made a pretence of being very angry at it and abused and thrashed her almost to death.
Yet the stepmother was not satisfied. She dragged poor Tejimola to the rice and paddy pounding apparatus. She then asked her to supply the paddy in the hole, and she began to pound away with all her might. As she was doing it the stepmother all of a sudden pressed the instrument hard on her right hand which crushed it completely.
Poor Tejimola shrieked in pain at this, and the relentless stepmother beginning to strike her with a broom ordered her to do her work with her left hand. As the unfortunate girl was doing her work with her left hand that too was crushed in the same manner as the right.
Then the stepmother ordered her to do it with her right foot which received the same treatment as her hands -- then the left foot was served the same way. The head only remained and she was asked to do the work with her head. That too was crushed -- and then poor Tejimola died.
Having thus killed the unfortunate girl who was her father's darling, she buried her secretly just under the eaves of the rice-pounding shed.
After some time a beautiful little pumpkin plant grew on the spot where she was buried. The plant was full of lovely big pumpkins. Not seeing Tejimola about for a long time the neighbours questioned the stepmother about her, who promptly replied that Tejimola had not yet returned from her friend's wedding.
A beggar woman came one day and begged a pumpkin from the merchant's wife. She was surprised on hearing this strange request for she had no pumpkin in her garden.
She had not the courage to go near the spot where Tejimola was buried since that incident and consequently had not seen the pumpkin plant gradually creeping over the roof; so she said, "My good woman, where could I get a pumpkin? I have not had one for an age myself."
The beggar woman replied, "Why, mother, there is a beautiful plant creeping over the roof of your rice-pounding shed with some lovely pumpkins."
The merchant's wife was taken aback, and she replied, "If there be a pumpkin plant certainly take by all means as many pumpkins as you like."
The beggar woman then went to the spot and no sooner she did so than the pumpkin plant sang out plaintively: "Stretch not thy hands nor pluck a pumpkin -- thou strange beggar woman, my stepmother did crush me for the silk cloths, and it is I, Tejimola."
The beggar woman got terribly frightened on hearing a pumpkin plant sing and she came back to the merchant's wife and said, "Mother, when I went to pluck a pumpkin the plant began to sing out -- I don't want any pumpkin, madam, I am off."
And she left. The merchant's wife understood what it was and went with a knife to the spot and cut the plant off, root and all, and threw it away in a remote comer of her garden.
Just on the spot where the pumpkin plant was thrown away there grew a shaddock tree. It was loaded with fruits so much so that some of the branches touched the ground. Some cowherd boys, not being able to resist the temptation, approached the merchant's wife and asked her for some of the fruits.
She replied that she had no such tree in the orchard; but the boys said that they had seen a tree full of fruits just at a remote comer in the garden. She then said they were welcome to them if they could find them.
Rejoiced with their success they went to the spot; but as they were about to pluck the fruits the tree began plaintively to sing: "Oh, my brothers dear, cowherd boys of the village, neither stretch your hand nor pluck the fruits -- return home -- it is I, Tejimola, who am buried here crushed to death by my stepmother."
The boys, hearing this plaintive strain, thought that the tree was haunted and being frightened left the spot at once. They came to the merchant's wife and told her all about it. When it struck her that it was just there where she had thrown the pumpkin plant, she came to the conclusion that it was Tejimola who was there as a shaddock tree. She went to the spot and uprooted it completely aud threw it into the river.
The shaddock plant floated along the river and in one of its shallow pools it rested as a lovely water lily. Sometime later the merchant was returning home that way and seeing the lovely lily wanted to take it home for his dear daughter Tejimola. He directed his oarsmen to take the boat to the spot and asked one of them to pluck the lily.
When the boatman was going to pluck it, the lily began -- as before -- to sing plaintively. The boatman became terrified and would not pluck it. This made the merchant curious and he went to pluck it himself.
The lily then began to sing out: "Father dear, neither stretch your hands nor pluck the lily. It is I, Tejimola, who was crushed to death by my stepmother only for the silk cloths."
The father was quite aware of his wife's conduct and behaviour towards his daughter, so he thought it must be his own Tejimola. To find out whether it was so or not he took out some areca from his mouth which he was then chewing.
He placed it on his left hand and on his right he took a sweet (laddoo), and he said: "If you be really my own Tejimola you will appear as a myna and chew the the areca on my left hand; but if you are anybody else, you will take this sweet on my right hand."
The lily at once was transformed into a myna, and perching itself on his left hand chewed the areca. The merchant was sure then that it was his own Tejimola and bringing a cage, put the myna in it.
When he reached home he asked his wife where Tejimola was. She said that she had gone to her uncle's place; but the husband began to put her question after question which brought out the truth.
Then the merchant threw his gamocha [cloth] on the myna and said, "If you are really my Tejimola and love me, you will take your human shape at once and wear this gamocha."
Tejimola then regained her human form.
The merchant drove his wife away from his home.
Revised September 9, 2026.