Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm(3)

Then the father came home, sat himself down at the table, and said, “Where is my son?”

The mother served him up a great big helping of stew, and Marlenikin wouldn’t stop crying.

The father asked again, “Where is my son?”

“Oh,” said the woman, “he took a trip to visit his mother’s great-uncle. He’ll stay there for a while.”

“What in heaven’s name is he doing there? He didn’t even say goodbye to me?”

“Oh, well, he wanted to go so badly, and asked if he could stay six weeks. I’m sure they’ll take good care of him there.”

The man replied, “I’m so sad, it isn’t right that he should have left without saying goodbye.” Whereupon he started eating, and said, “Marlenikin, why are you crying? Your brother will be back soon.” Then he said, “Woman, this stew tastes so good, give me more!” And the more he ate, the more he wanted, and he said, “Give me more, the two of you shall have none. It seems to me as if it were all mine.” And he ate and ate, and dropped all the bones under the table, until he had gobbled it all up.

Then Marlenikin went to her chest of drawers, drew her best silken scarf from the bottom drawer, and gathered all the bones little and big from under the table, bound them in her silken scarf, and hauled them out the door, where she wept bloody tears. She laid the bones out in the green grass under the juniper tree, and once she had done so she felt a whole lot better and didn’t cry anymore.

After that the juniper tree started to sway, and the branches spread farther and farther apart and then came back together again, as if in a burst of joy someone were clapping his hands. And it was as if a mist rose from the tree, and in the midst of the mist a fire burned, and a beautiful bird flew out of the fire. It sang so sweetly and flew high up in the air, and once it was gone the juniper tree was again as before, and the cloth with the bones was gone. But Marlenikin felt so giddy and glad-hearted, as if her brother were still alive. Then she went cheerfully back into the house, sat down at the table, and ate.

But the bird flew away, landed on the roof of a goldsmith’s house, and started singing:

“My mother, she smote me,

My father, he ate me,

My sister, sweet Marlenikin,

Gathered all my little bonikins,

Bound them in a silken scarf,

And lay them under the juniper tree.

Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”

The goldsmith, who sat at his workbench fashioning a golden chain, heard the bird perched on his rooftop singing. The song sounded so sweet to him that he got up to have a look, and as he crossed his doorstep he lost a slipper. But he strode out into the middle of the street with only one slipper and one sock on, draped in his leather apron and with the golden chain in one hand and his tongs in the other. And the sun shone brightly on that street. He stepped forward, then stood still and said to the bird, “Your song is so sweet, will you sing it again?”



“No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing it a second time for nothing. Give me the golden chain and I’ll do as you ask.”

“Here,” said the goldsmith, “take the golden chain, and sing it again.”

Then the bird swooped down and snatched the golden chain with its right claw, landed in front of the goldsmith, and sang:

“My mother, she smote me,

My father, he ate me,

My sister, sweet Marlenikin,

Gathered all my little bonikins,

Bound them in a silken scarf,

And lay them under the juniper tree.

Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”

Then the bird flew to a shoemaker, landed on his rooftop, and sang:

“My mother, she smote me,

My father, he ate me,

My sister, sweet Marlenikin,

Gathered all my little bonikins,

Bound them in a silken scarf,

And lay them under the juniper tree.

Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”

Entranced by the song, the shoemaker ran out the door in his shirtsleeves, peered up at his roof, and held his hand in front of his eyes to keep from being blinded by the sun. “Bird,” said he, “you sure can sing.” Then he called to his wife through the open door: “Honey, why don’t you come out and get a load of this bird here, boy can it ever sing!” Then he called to his daughter and her children, to the journeymen, the apprentice, and the maid, and they all came out into the street to have a look at the bird; they saw how beautiful it was with its red-and-green plumage, and around its neck it wore a golden chain, and its eyes twinkled like stars. “Bird,” said the shoemaker, “sing me that ditty again.”

“No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing it a second time for nothing, you’ve got to give me something.”