The Turkish Sultan

A long time ago a Turkish Sultan ruled the country of Turkey. The Turkish Sultan wore a big cloak that was carried on either side of him by the Sultan’s servants. Everyone in the land was very poor except for the Sultan, who was very rich. There was, however, a very special rooster who was owned by an old lady in the village.

One day the rooster was pecking around for crumbs when he came across a special treasure- a diamond button. The Sultan saw this and because he was very greedy he said,
“Servants grab that diamond button and put it in the treasure chest in my treasure chamber and that will be the end of that”

Well the rooster was very angry. He flew up to the palace window and said to the sultan, “Give me back my Diamond Button, Give me back my diamond button”

The Sultan said, “Servants grab that rooster and through him in the well and that will be the end of that”

With that servants grabbed the rooster and threw him into the well where he landed with a splash. But remember the rooster was a very special rooster, in fact he was a magic rooster, and so he said,
“Come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy and swallow up all the water” and he swallowed up all the water till the well was dry. Then he flew out of the well and up to the palace window and said top the Sultan, “Give me back my diamond button, give me back my diamond button.”

The Sultan, a bit irritated now, said, “Servants grab that rooster and throw him in the fire and that will be the end of that.”

So the Sultan’s servants grabbed the rooster and threw him in the fire. But the rooster was a very special rooster and so he said,
“Come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy and let out all the water.” All of the water from the well poured out of the rooster’s mouth putting out the fire in a great cloud of steam and soaking the Sultan, his servants and the palace. The rooster then flew up to the palace window and said, “Give me back my diamond button, Give me back my diamond button.”

The Sultan was now very angry and he said, “Servants grab that rooster and throw him in the beehive and that will be the end of that.”

So the Sultan’s servants grabbed the rooster and threw him in the beehive. But the rooster was a very special rooster and so he said,
“Come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy and swallow up all the bees.” The rooster swallowed all the bees in the beehive, then flew up to the palace window and said to the Sultan, “Give me back my diamond button, Give me back my diamond button.”

The Sultan by now was hoping mad, he roared, “Servants grab that rooster and bring him to me! I have thrown him in the well, I have thrown him in the fire and I have thrown him in the Beehive, and still he comes back. What should I do with him now?”

The servants gathered together and whispered, “psssssss”. Then they went to the Sultan and told him their idea. The Sultan listened and said, “Ah Huh! What a good idea”

Then he grabbed the rooster and quickly stuffed him down the back of his pants and prepared to sit down on him. But the rooster was a very special rooster and he said, “Come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy and let out all the bees.”

The bees poured out of the rooster’s mouth and stung the Sultan right his big, fat, wobbly bottom. “Yeeeeowwww!” yelled the Sultan as he hopped up and down. The servants quickly pulled down the Sultan’s pants to let out the rooster and the angry bees. The rooster flew up to the palace window and said, “Give me back my diamond button, give me back my diamond button.”

The Sultan said, “Enough! Servants take that rooster to the treasure chest in the treasure chamber and give him back his diamond button and that will be the end of that.”

So the Sultan’s servants took the rooster to the treasure chest in the treasure chamber and they left him to find his diamond button. But while he was there the rooster saw all the piles of emeralds, diamonds, rubies and other treasures that filled the treasure chamber and he said,
“Come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy, come my magic tummy and swallow up all this treasure.”
Then waddled out of the palace and down to the village to share all the treasure with all the villagers. From then on, in the country of Turkey no one was poor, except for the Sultan!

Wobbly Wombats

By Pat Dargin

Once upon a time there were three wombat brothers. They lived amongst the high hills running down to the edge of the great southern sea.

One night, the wombats came out of their burrows to eat the grass as usual but they’d eaten all of it. There were tussocks of tall grass on the next hill but, to get there, they had to cross a steep, deep ravine between the two hills. There was a way. An ancient gum tree had fallen across the ravine, roots buried into the earth on one side, trunk stretching out and great branches resting on the other side. They could wobble along it.

However, they didn’t know that in the dark, damp cave under the roots of the tree lived a Bogley, the ugliest of Boglies. It was so ugly it would frighten anyone! The Bogley had woken when the tree fell over and now sat on a branch under the tree trunk, dangling its long, green legs. Its tummy rumbled.

The wombats decided to go across. The smallest wombat went first, his long claws a-tapping on the tree trunk. Tip-tap, tip-tap. The Bogley listened. The Bogley sniffed and rubbed its tummy.

Who’s that tapping up there?

“It is I, a wobbly wombat. I’m going across to eat grass so that I’ll grow big and fat.”

“HO! No you’re not! I’m coming to gobble you up!”

“Oh no! I’m only small. My brother’s coming next and he’s much bigger and fatter.”

“ERRAH! Then I won’t waste my time with you. I’ll eat your brother instead. Quick! Go across!”

And the wombat wobbled across – very quickly!

Soon, the middle-sized wombat wobbled along, his long claws a-tapping on the tree trunk. Tip-tap, tip-tap. The Bogley listened. The Bogley sniffed and rubbed its tummy.

Who’s that tapping up there?

“It is I, a wobbly wombat. I’m going across to eat grass so that I’ll grow big and fat.”

“HA! No you’re not! I’m coming to gobble you up!”

“Oh no! I’m only middle-sized. My brother’s coming next and he’s MUCH bigger and fatter.”

“ERRAH! Then I won’t waste my time with you. I’ll eat your brother instead. Quick! Go across!”

And the wombat wobbled across – very quickly!

Before long the biggest wombat wobbled along, his long claws a-tapping on the tree trunk. Tip-tap, tip-tap. The Bogley listened. The Bogley sniffed and rubbed its tummy.

Who’s that tapping up there?

“It is I, a wobbly wombat. I’m going across to eat grass so that I’ll grow big and fat.”

“HEE! No you’re not! I’m coming to gobble you up!”

“ARE YOU NOW? Well, come on up – I’ll be waiting.”

The Bogley pulled its ugly self up onto the tree trunk but that wombat turned around so that the Bogley saw his tough, hairy rump. The Bogley tried to hold the wombat but that big, fat wombat rammed his rump upwards and backwards into the Bogley again and again. The Bogley let go. Then the big, fat wombat turned about and CHARGED at the Bogley’s legs. They crumpled and it fell off the tree trunk – down, down, down into that steep, deep ravine.

The biggest wombat wobbled across to the other side and joined the others. They were SO hungary they ate and ate and ate the grass until they had eaten so much they could hardly wobble back across the tree trunk to their burrows. Then they slept and slept and slepty and lived happily ever after.

And, as for that Bogley – well, don’t worry about it because it was never seen again.

From Swag of Yarns winter 2004

Possum Portions

By Louisa John-Krol

In Emerald, between mountains where mighty ash trees spear the mist from a bed of green ferns, there lived two mice. Both were very fond of cheese, especially the kind that melts while cicadas rattle and buzz in a blaze of sunshine. So as luck would have it, at a barbeque a big blob of cheese slid off a plate and rolled under a log. Nobody noticed the two mice creep out the nudge the cheese hungrily.

Then came the problem of dividing it equally. How would they be certain that neither would eat more than the other? They eyed each other with suspicion, both thinking that the other would be sure to grab the largest portion. By nightfall they were still nudging the cheese greedily.

Night is when Perry the possum likes to take his stroll along the telegraph wires. On this night he glanced down, but pretended not to notice the cheese.

“Hey what’s up down there?” he asked the mice, “Can I be of help?”

“Why of course! You can divide the cheese for us!” The two mice sniffed and twitched their noses eagerly. Perry agreed.

“Very well, fetch me a wattle twig to cut this silly clump of goo.”

So the two mice did, dragging the twig at each end by their sharp little teeth.

Yet despite an impressive display of concentration, the possum failed to divide the cheese evenly. One portion was clearly much bigger than the other.

“Dear me!” he muttered, his dark eyes glowing, “This will never do. I shall eat part of the larger piece so that it equals the size of the other.”

Before the mice could object, Perry ate part of the cheese and, of course, ate too much.

“Oh dear! Now this piece is the smaller one. I shall have to trim the other piece to match it.” By this time it was clear that Perry intended to polish off the lot.

“Do not bother with our affairs further,” grumbled the mice, “We’ll divide the rest of the cheese ourselves!”

“Oh I could never do that!” replied the possum, “You would start quarrelling for sure. No, I must continue nibbling this bit and that, until they are exactly the same. If in my efforts all the cheese is eaten, that is fate and we must accept it.”

With that, the mice saw that Perry had no intention of returning the cheese. Sadly they turned away. The clever possum laughed and called after them:
“You have learned a lesson, my little nibblers. Never let greed lead you into foolishness!”

He swallowed the last lump of cheese with a grin.

From Swag of Yarns winter 2004

Kingdom of Many Mice

Folktale of Tibet

Once a long time ago in Tibet there was a kingdom in which lived many mice. One year the crops were very poor and the mice found that there was little spare grain left after the harvest for them. Their stored were depleted even before the end of winter. The leader of the mice went to see the king. He asked the king to lend the mice a barn full of grain and promised to repay the loan by the next harvest.

“If I were to give you the grain, how will you carry it away?” asked the king.

“That is no matter,” replied the leader of the mice.” We will carry it away.”

So the king gave the mice one of his great granaries full of barley. He ordered his officers to throw the doors open and let the mice carry away as much as they wanted.

That night the mice invaded the barn. Each one picked up as many grains as he could carry in his mouth, on his back and curled up on his tail. When the mice had finished the barn was empty and not a single grain of barley was left. Next morning the king was surprised to see that the mice had been able to empty the barn so efficiently. He formed a very high opinion of their powers. The following spring when the mice honoured their promise by repaying the loan with interest the king’s opinion of mice grew even higher.

One day the powerful king on the other side of the river decided to invade the kingdom of many mice, with a huge army.

The leader of the mice went again to see their king. He asked for one hundered thousand sticks, each about a foot long, laid in rows on the bank of the river. In return for defeating the powerful army he asked the king to banish cats from the kingdom and to build a dam along the riverbank so that when it flooded it would not enter the homes of the mice. The king had already learned to respect the mice and did not make the mistake of underestimating them. He agreed.

The following evening the mice launched the sticks into the river and sailed across to the other side where most of the enemy soldiers were asleep. The mice scattered themselves around the camp and destroyed as much as they could; some nibbled bow strings and slings of the muskets, some gnawed fuses, some bit off the clothes and pigtails of the sleeping men. Soon tents, stores and provisions were reduced to shreds and scattered in every direction. Then they returned to their homes on the other side of the river without the enemy knowing they had been.

The next morning the enemy soldiers awoke to find their clothes in rags, pigtails cut off, rifles without slings, no provisions, no breakfast. Each one accused the other of theft and treachery. The camp was in a state of confusion. Then from the opposite bank a few shots were fired. The soldiers were terrified at being attacked in their sorry state. The army retreated. The king of the kingdom of many mice sent a herald across to the leader of the powerful army. On this occasion, he said, he showed restraint by sending only his mice to defeat his enemy but if he were threatened again he would use the powerful beasts in his kingdom and if necessary he would come himself with his brave warriors. The enemy king decided to make peace.

The mice were happy. Their king kept his promise to banish cats and dam the river. And as well as that every year the mice received a barn full of grain from the king in recognition of the service they had rendered in time of need.

From Folktales of Tibet, Synergy Books International
Published in Swag of Yarns spring 2004

Three Little Jumbucks

By Pat Dargin
Recommended for ages 5-8 years.

Once upon a time three little jumbucks lived with lots of other sheep in a large paddock. Now, those little jumbucks knew every bit of that paddock – it was boring. They wanted to see the big wide world. Their mother said it was dangerous.

But they said, “Baa-aa! Baa-aa! Baa-aa! We’ll make a little house and shut ourselves in so we’ll be safe at night.”

Those little jumbucks wriggled and jiggled through the fence and trotted away. There were so many things to see but, by midday, the sun was so hot the jumbucks lay down under some shady trees beside a billabong. Later in the afternoon they set off down the road again and came to a paddock full of bales of straw.

One little jumbuck said,” Baa-aa, it will be easy to make a house of straw so we’ll be safe at night.”

The other two said,” Baa-aa, Baa-aa. A house of straw is not very strong! You can stay but we’ll move further on.”

And they did- while the little jumbuck made his house of straw. He went inside just as the sun set.

That night a dingo came slinking from amongst the dark and shadowy trees. He stopped. He sniffed. He smiled a big, bad dingo smile that showed his fearsome teeth. Ah – hah! Jumbuck! He prowled around the house of straw.

“Jumbuck, Jumbuck, let me in!”

“No, no, NO! Big, bad dingo!” said the little jumbuck.
“Then I’ll scritch and I’ll scratch and push your door open!”

The dingo scritched and scratched and pushed the door open. He ate that jumbuck all up. He was so full he went back to his den to sleep.

Meanwhile, the two little jumbucks came upon a saw-mill at eh edge of some bush.

One little jumbuck said: “Baa-aa, it will be easy to make a house of sticks so we’ll be safe at night.”
The other one said: “Baa-aa, a house of sticks is not very strong! You can stay but I’ll go further on.”

And he did – while the little jumbuck made his house of sticks. He went inside just as the sun set.

That night the dingo came slinking from amongst the dark and shadowy trees. He stopped. He sniffed. He smiled a big, bad dingo smile that showed his fearsome teeth. Ah – hah! Jumbuck! He prowled around the house of sticks straw.

“Jumbuck, Jumbuck, let me in!”

“No, no, NO! Big, bad dingo!” said the little jumbuck.
“Then I’ll scritch and I’ll scratch and push your door open!”

The dingo scritched and scratched and pushed the door open. He ate that jumbuck all up. He was so full he went back to his den to sleep.

Meanwhile, the other little jumbuck came upon a little old house made of mud bricks. It was not far from the river and there was grass to eat.

“Baa-aa! This is a good place to live. The bricks are strong but I will have to fix up the walls a bit so I’ll be safe at night.”

The little jumbuck worked hard all day and went inside just as the sun set.

That night the dingo came slinking from amongst the dark and shadowy treed. He stopped. He sniffed. He smiled a big, bad dingo smile that showed his fearsome teeth. Ah-hah! Jumbuck! He prowled around and around the house of bricks.

“Jumbuck, Jumbuck, let me in!”

“No, no, NO! Big, bad dingo!” said the little jumbuck.
“Then I’ll scritch and I’ll scratch and push your door open!”

The dingo scritched and scratched, scrtitched and scratched, scritched and scratched but the door was strong and would not open. The dingo’s claws hurt. He’d get that jumbuck another time. Right now he was hungry and went off to hunt for something else – a chicken from the farm nearby.

The next morning the little jumbuck met the farmer who was very cross because the dingo had taken – not one, not two, but three chooks. All that was left were their feathers! But the farmer had an idea to trick that dingo. He went to the woolshed and found the tar boy’s bucket. He took it and a bag of feathers down to the old brick house and told the little jumbuck what to do.

That night the dingo came slinking from amongst the dark and shadowy trees. He stopped. He sniffed. He smiled a big, bad dingo smile that showed his fearsome teeth. Ah-Hah! Jumbuck! He prowled around and around the house of bricks.

“Jumbuck, Jumbuck, let me in!”

“No, no, NO! Big, bad dingo!” said the little jumbuck.
“Then I’ll scritch and I’ll scratch and push your door open!”

He raised his paw, sharp claws ready. But the door swung open and out came a stream of sticky, gooey tar. It splashed all over the dingo. It dripped from his ears and down to the end of his nose. It dripped down over his yellow-brown hair. Before the dingo could move, a shower of feathers came out through the doorway. They stuck all over the tarry dingo. What a sight!

The little jumbuck laughed, “baa-aa! Baa-aa! Baa-aa!”

The dingo backed away. He lifted his head to the moon, let out a long, mournful howl, curled his tail between his legs and loped off into the dark, shadowy trees, never to be seen again.

And the little jumbuck lived happily for the rest of his days.


From Swag of Yarns Spring 2004

The Dingo and the Red Kangaroo

By Emily Nikoloski
Winner of Stories of Australian Animals Competition, 2004
At Dandenong Secondary College, Melbourne.

One long, hot summer day, a dingo wandered around through the dry Australian desert. He was so busy daydreaming and loving the peace that he didn’t notice an old well. Before he knew it, he had tumbled over the edge and fallen into it.

There wasn’t much water in the well, so the dingo thought he was quite safe at the bottom. But it was deep and the walls were smooth. The dingo then realised that there was no way out.

A few hours went by. The dingo paddled in the water. The sun was now setting. The dingo became frightened. He jumped and leaped and tried to get over the edge and out of the well – but there was no luck.

“Hello down there!” echoed a voice.

It was a red kangaroo that had heard the dingo paddling and splashing in the water and had come to see what was happening. The sly dingo now saw his chance to escape from the well.

“My dear friend, Kangaroo. You have come just in time to share my great fortune. Look at this cool water. I’m sure you’re very thirsty on such a hot day like today.”

“But how can I reach it?” cried the kangaroo.

“Jump, my dear friend. That’s how I came down,” said the dingo.

So the silly kangaroo jumped down the well and realised that the water was indeed cool. But before long, even the kangaroo began to wonder how they could get out of the well.

“I have an idea!” cried the dingo, “Jump up on your tail and put your front feet as far up the well as you can. I’ll climb onto your back and jump to the top. Then I’ll help you get out.”

Without thinking for a second, the kangaroo did as the dingo suggested. The dingo climbed out of the well and grinned at the kangaroo.

“My poor friend, I’m sorry I can’t stop to get you out after all. I hope someone else comes along!”

With that, the dingo trotted off and ran into the sunset.

Just like the well, the moral of the story is deep:
Remember to look before you leap!

From Swag of Yarns Spring 2004