Dorset Folk Tales for Children

Dorset Folk Tales for Children

Dorset Folk Tales for Children

Dorset Folk Tales for Children

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Overview

Dorset is full of mythical creatures from Britain's most legendary folk tales, including demons, dragons, Jack-o'-lanterns, giants and mermaids. Read on to bring the landscape of the country's rolling hills and Jurassic coast alive, and let author Tim Laycock inspire you to rediscover the county you thought you knew.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780750992831
Publisher: The History Press
Publication date: 08/19/2019
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 192
File size: 9 MB
Age Range: 7 - 11 Years

About the Author

TIM LAYCOCK first began storytelling as a member of Magic Lantern, and subsequently worked for several years as a musician for Taffy Thomas. His stories often have a musical element, ideal for engaging audiences at festivals and community events. Tim works extensively throughout Dorset schools with KS1 AND KS2 children, as well as performing regularly at other local venues such as the Wild About Dorset events organised by Dorset Wildlife Trust.On top of Tim’s extensive storytelling work he is also an actor and playwright, and has just finished a production of Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood. He lives in Dorchester.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The Old Man of the Sea

A LONG TIME AGO, when flax was grown in the fields around Burton Bradstock, there was an old fisherman called George Hansford. He lived with his wife Alice in a tiny cottage just behind the Hive beach, not far from the sea. A tumbledown kind of an old place it was, too, with one chimney, two little rooms downstairs, and a bedroom and a box room upstairs. The front room was filled with musical instruments – banjos, mandolins, squeezeboxes and mouth-organs; and whenever George made a bit of extra money from the fishing (which wasn't often), he'd buy another himself another instrument. There was no bathroom indoors, just an old privy in a little shed at the end of the garden! The garden looked like a shipyard: bits and pieces of masts, sails, fishing nets, fish boxes, anchors – all the things you need to catch fish in the sea.

Now, George had been at sea for forty years and what he didn't know about fishing wasn't worth knowing. But fishing is a hard way of making a living and there was never much money to spare, so when people began to move into the village and build nice bungalows along the road to the beach, with big picture windows and indoor bathrooms, Alice began to grumble.

'George, you need to work harder. You should catch more fish, and then we can have a proper, warm bathroom and an indoor loo. I'm fed up with that privy, especially in the winter.'

The old fisherman just grunted. He carried on baiting his crab pots. He loaded up his tackle and walked down to his boat with his wife's words ringing in his ears. He rowed out to sea, set the sail and sniffed the air. It always cheered him up, heading out to sea with the spray flying around his face, and the prospect of a few hours of peace and quiet bobbing around on the ocean.

He dropped his crab pots, cast his net and sat down to wait. After a while, he saw the net floats bobbing, and began to haul in, hoping for a decent catch. As the net came over the side of the boat, he saw an unfamiliar shape tangled up amongst the seaweed and the fish. The creature thrashed around in the mesh of the net and George stared, completely astonished. Was it a fish? It certainly had a long tail. Was it a seal? It certainly had sad brown eyes and whiskers. Was it even a very strange child? It was too old to be a baby, all wrinkled and wild looking.

The fisherman scratched his head. 'Well, I'm blowed! Whatever are you, and what do I do with you, eh?'

The sea creature wriggled round and sat on the side of the boat, and George could see that it had a long beard entwined with seaweed, and most of its body was covered in shimmering blue, silver and green scales. But it had arms just like a human and it stared at the fisherman, then buried its head in its hands and burst into tears. The sobs were pitiful to hear and George felt very sorry for the fish-man.

'Now then mate,' he said, 'don't take on like that. I won't hurt you. There's plenty of other fish in my net. I don't need to eat you too.'

'Oh thank you, thank you!' said the fish-man. 'I am the Old Man of the Sea. And for your kindness, I can grant you one wish. What shall it be? Anything at all, just ask!'

The fisherman thought about a new boat, or a new banjo. But then he remembered what his wife had said about the bathroom, so he said, 'It's not for me really, it's for Alice, my wife. She says our house is very cold in winter and we've only got an outside privy. Could we have a cosy indoor bathroom do you think?'

The Old Man of the Sea smiled. 'Of course, consider it done,' he said. And with that, he did a backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

George finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the seashore, and as he got closer he could see that she was dancing and singing.

'George!' she shouted. 'George, come and look! Come and see what's happened. It's wonderful! I can't believe it!'

The fisherman hauled his boat up on the shingle and followed his wife back to the cottage. There, sure enough, was a sparkling, shiny new bathroom: washbasin, bath, and toilet. The taps gleamed like silver and the tiles glinted in the light.

'How did it happen?' she said. 'Where did you get the money?'

Then the fisherman told his wife about the creature in the net and the wish, and that night they sat down to a good meal of fresh fish, happy as could be.

However, the next morning, Alice said, 'George, I've been thinking ...' This was a bad sign; it usually meant that she would ask him to do something!

'Well ...' Alice said, 'This story about the Old Man of the Sea ... is it true?'

'Of course it is, my dear,' said George.

'Well prove it! I've been thinking that you were a bit daft, just to ask for an indoor bathroom. You could have asked for a nice new bungalow with a picture window, like the others up the road. I think you should go and catch that fish-man again, and this time ask him for nice new bungalow.'

George stared at her. 'You must be crazy,' he said. 'The chances of me catching him again must be one in ten thousand. He'll have swum off somewhere else, for certain.'

'Go and try,' she said.

So the fisherman loaded his nets and crab pots, and set off back to sea. He took his banjo with him and dropped anchor next to some rocks, where he always knew he would catch fish. Then he picked up his banjo and began to sing:

Man of the sea,
Come listen to me;
For Alice, my wife,
The joy of my life,
Has sent me to beg a boon of thee.

At first, nothing happened, but then the sea began to bubble and out jumped the Old Man of the Sea, and perched on the side of the boat.

'Ahoy there, shipmate!' he said. 'How do you like the bathroom?'

'Yes, it's very nice,' replied the fisherman. 'But Alice, well, she's not content with that! She wants a bungalow like the ones further up the road ...'

'D'you mean the ones with the picture windows?' asked the Old Man of the Sea.

'Yes, that's it, if you don't mind?'

The Old Man of the Sea looked thoughtful. 'Well, that's a second wish, but I suppose I can allow it. Consider it done,' he said. And with that he did a double backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

The fisherman finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the seashore, and as he got closer he could see that she was dancing and singing.

'George!' she shouted. 'George, come and look! Come and see what's happened. It's wonderful! I can't believe it.'

The fisherman hauled his boat up onto the shingle and followed his wife back – but where was his house? It had completely disappeared. And there, sure enough, in its place was a beautiful new bungalow.

'It's what I've always wanted!' she said. 'Come inside, my dear, and mind you wipe your feet!'

Then George told his wife about the song and the banjo, and how the Old Man of the Sea sat on the boat, and the second wish; and that night they sat down to a good meal of fresh fish, happy as could be.

All went well for a week or so, and then one morning the fisherman noticed his wife looking out from her great front window. She was gazing towards the sea.

'What are you looking at?' he asked.

'I've been thinking George ... you could have asked for a nice hotel, like the one on the headland there. Then you could give up the fishing and be head waiter. There are so many tourists round here these days, we'd make a fortune! I could be the manager. Go and catch that fish-man again, and this time ask him for a hotel!'

George stared at her. 'You must be crazy,' he said. 'The chances of catching the fishman again must be one in a million. He'll have swum off somewhere else, for certain!'

'Go and try,' she said.

So the fisherman loaded his nets and crab pots and set off back to sea. He took his mandolin with him and dropped his anchor over a sandbank, where he always knew he would catch fish. Then he picked up his mandolin and began to sing:

Man of the sea,
Come listen to me;
For Alice, my wife,
The joy of my life,
Has sent me to beg a boon of thee.

At first, nothing happened, but then the sea began to bubble and out jumped the fishman, and perched on the side of the boat.

'Good morning, matey,' he said. 'How do you like the bungalow?' The fisherman groaned. 'As far as I'm concerned, it's perfect.'

'So why have you come back?'

'It's not for me,' he said. 'It's Alice – she wants a hotel, just like the one on the headland. Can you help us?'

The fish-man rubbed his chin and thought hard. 'Well, I suppose three wishes might be allowed – but only three, mind. Consider it done.' And with that he did a triple backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

The fisherman finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the top of the cliff above the beach, dancing and singing. Behind her, its great glass windows reflecting the setting sun, was a brand new hotel with a great flashing sign, surrounded with a beautiful garden, a tennis court and a swimming pool.

'George!' she shouted. 'George, come and look! Come and see what's happened. It's wonderful! I can't believe it!'

The fisherman hauled his boat up onto the shingle, and made his way up to the hotel. And for a month or so, the business thrived, and Alice was very happy.

But one morning, as they were sat having coffee in the sun room overlooking Lyme Bay, she said, 'George, I've been thinking ...'

His heart sank; he knew what was coming!

'I think you were a bit modest, just asking for a hotel. Go back and ask him for a castle. Not a ruined one like Corfe Castle. A nice one, with huge rooms and paintings and curtains, like Windsor Castle. I'll be Queen, and you can be King. Go and ask him for a castle!'

George stared at her. 'You must be crazy,' he said. 'The chances of catching him again must be one in a hundred million. He'll have swum off somewhere else, for certain.'

'Go and try,' she said.

'But the Old Man said, "No more wishes."'

'Go and try!'

So, very reluctantly, the fisherman loaded his nets and crab pots and set off back to sea. He took his squeezebox with him and dropped his anchor over a shipwreck, where he always knew he would catch fish. Then he picked up his squeezebox and began to sing:

Man of the sea,
Come listen to me;
For Alice, my wife,
The joy of my life,
Has sent me to beg a boon of thee.

At first, nothing happened, but then the sea began to bubble and out jumped the Man of the Sea, and perched on the side of the boat.

'Good morning, matey,' he said. 'How do you like the hotel?'

'Very good,' said the fisherman. 'But you see, it's Alice – this time she wants a castle.'

'Oh, does she now?' said the fish-man. 'Oh, does she now? Well, that's one wish too many!'

And with that he did a quadruple backflip, waved his tail and dived into the sea.

The fisherman sat quietly for a few minutes, staring at the spot where the fish-man had disappeared. Then he hauled in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, there was no one waiting for him on the seashore. The hotel on the headland had vanished. He walked up the road and the bungalow with picture windows had vanished. All that was left was his little cottage on the seashore, and up at the end of the garden was a little wooden privy – even the new indoor bathroom had gone!

Alice was sobbing on the doorstep.

'Never you mind, my love,' said George kindly. 'At least we've got some fresh fish for tea.'

'Oh, George, it's all my fault. I was too greedy, and now everything's gone!'

'Not everything, my dear. Come on inside. We've still got the fish – it's mackerel, your favourite, and there's nothing in the world better than a plate of fresh Burton mackerel!'

Reverend Henry Moule was the vicar in Fordington, Dorchester. He had lots of children, and he heard this song being sung by their nursemaid. The tale is found in many cultures around the world.

CHAPTER 2

Sidney Northover's Boots

HAVE YOU EVER put your foot into your welly and felt something warm and wriggly squirming about inside? I bet if you did, you'd pull your foot out pretty quick and shake out your boot. You might even scream! Or you might just push your foot in anyway, and hobble around until someone noticed and told you to take your boot off – and out would run a confused spider, or even a mouse, and scurry off under the sofa!

In the days before rubber wellies, when everyone wore leather boots or wooden-soled clogs, Sidney Northover was working in the fields with his father and a great gang of men and women. As it was the school holidays, the children were helping. They were all busy bringing in the harvest. The weather had been kind all week, and the foreman was very pleased. They'd finished most of the fields, and the wheat and barley stacks behind Manor Farm in Dewlish were rising above the roofs of the farmyard buildings. Everyone was in a good mood and the wheat and barley promised plenty of winter work. Even old Phil Humphries had a song on his lips, and all was well in the world.

Oats and beans and barley grows.
As you and I and everyone knows.
Oats and beans and barley grows As you and I and everyone know,

Waiting for your partner!
First the farmer sows his seed,
Then he stands and takes his ease.
Takes his ease and claps his hands And turns around to view the land,
Waiting for your partner!

But all wasn't well with Sidney Northover – his boots were too tight. The cobbler in Milborne St Andrew had promised his mother that the leather was supple and it would certainly stretch as Sid's feet grew. Well, if that was going to happen, it hadn't happened yet! The boots made him hobble around and the other children would laugh at him. But his mother couldn't afford more boots, so Sid had to put up with it.

At midday, the harvesters sat under the waggon in the shade to eat their bread and cheese and to drink their cold tea. Sid crept away on his own to the great hazel hedge that ran around the top end of the field. He sat down, eased off his pinching boots, and took out his lunch.

His back was weary from bending to pick up the wheat ears, and he curled up for a short nap. As he slept, he had a dream. He was far away from Dewlish, on board a great sailing ship, standing in the crow's nest as the vessel neared land.

Sid looked through his telescope. 'Land Ho!' he shouted.

'Where away?' cried the mate below.

'On the starboard bow sir, and it's coming up fast!' A boat was launched, with Sid in command. They landed on a deserted beach. Tropical palms came right down to the waterline, and brightly coloured birds flew above their heads.

'Follow me everyone, keep close together and look out!'

The intrepid boy led the landing party into the trees. Soon they were surrounded by dense vegetation. Everywhere they could smell the hot sweet scents of the jungle. They were startled by strange cries and calls. Suspicious rustles in the undergrowth made them all very nervous.

'Follow me, keep close together and look out!' warned Sid.

Then, all of a sudden, they heard a tremendous trumpeting and the sound of breaking branches and crashing trees. Right in front of them, terrible and terrifying, stood a great bull elephant, its tusks festooned in branches. It was glaring straight at them! The rest of the landing party turned tail and ran, but Sid stood his ground. He pulled off one of his boots, ready to throw it at the elephant. But just as the elephant was about to charge, the most peculiar thing happened. A small mouse ran across the path, right in front of the great animal's foot. The elephant took one look, waved its trunk in alarm, turned tail and –

'Wake up, Sid! Get your boots on! Time to start work again!'

'Eh? What?' Sid looked up to see his father grinning at him.

'Wake up, sleepyhead! You've been daydreaming! Get cracking, my son. We're not finished yet, there's two more fields to do before sunset.'

Sid tried to pull on his boots. There was something wriggling in his left boot. Something warm and squiggly – a mouse! He shook the mouse out and it ran a short way, then turned and looked, as if to say, 'Thank you kindly.'

'Not at all,' said Sid politely. 'I'm sure that boot is more comfortable for you than it is for me!'

The mouse turned and ran to the bank, then stopped and looked again. And then she scurried back a little further, stopped and looked.

'Are you trying to show me something?' asked Sid.

The mouse just kept on looking at him. Sid crept forward. The mouse ran back a little way and then stopped and looked again. Sid followed her, and he saw a patch of yellow sand amongst the leaves and grasses in the hedge. He went closer to examine it. He knew that the farmer had sent to Dorchester for several cartloads of sand only last week and had complained at the price of it. Yet here was some sand in the hillside just above Long Meadow – maybe quite a lot! Sid picked up a handful and tied it up in his handkerchief.

'Sidney Northover, get yourself down here at once!' It was Farmer Tuck, and he sounded very angry. Sid forced on his boots and hobbled painfully down the hill.

(Continues…)


Excerpted from "Dorset Folk Tales for Children"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Tim Laycock.
Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

About the Author,
Introduction,
1 The Old Man of the Sea,
2 Sidney Northover's Boots,
3 The Wonderful Crocodile,
4 Bincombe Bumps,
5 Giant Grumble,
6 The Drowners,
7 Where's the Hare?,
8 Jack and the Boat,
9 The Map,
10 Jack with a Lantern,
11 The Beggar's Wedding,
12 Granny Parsons and the Dorset Dumplings,
13 The Merman,
14 The Christmas Bull,

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