Fermanagh Folk Tales by Doreen McBride

Author:Doreen McBride [McBride, Doreen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780750966832
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2015-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

‘I knew I’d cause a sensation.’

He looked more superior than ever, stuck his nose in the air and frowned to give the impression he was thinking about something very serious. The workmen took no notice until they were going away, when one of them caught sight of him.

‘Look at this!’ he cried. ‘Here’s a bad rocket.’

He threw the rocket over the wall into a muddy ditch.

‘BAD ROCKET? BAD ROCKET?’ said the rocket as he whisked through the air. ‘That’s not what the man said. That’s impossible! He must have said “GRAND ROCKET”. “BAD” and “GRAND” sound very much the same. In fact they often are the same.’

He fell head first into the mud.

‘This is very uncomfortable,’ he said. ‘It must be some fashionable watering place. A spa, that’s what it is. I’ve heard fashionable people talking about going to a spa to help their nerves and goodness knows what. Considering the company I’ve been forced to keep I could do with a relaxing break. My nerves are completely shot to pieces. I have been placed upside down to reverse the effect of gravity on my brain. That should do me a power of good.’

A little frog, with a green mottled coat and bright intelligent eyes, hopped over to him.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘and welcome. I see you’re enjoying a mud bath. There’s nothing quite like mud. It’s good for the blood, you know.’

‘Ahem! Ahem!’ coughed the rocket.

‘What a wonderful singing voice you have,’ exclaimed the frog. ‘It’s very like a frog’s croak. Will you join us at our glee club tonight? We make the most musical sound in the world. The club’s held in the duck pond near the farmer’s house. We begin when the moon rises. The sound we make’s so entrancing everybody stays awake to listen. Why only yesterday I heard the farmer’s wife say she couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of us. It’s wonderful to be so popular.’

‘Ahem! Ahem!’ said the rocket. He was annoyed because the frog spoke so quickly he couldn’t get a word in edgeways.

‘Yes! You have a wonderful voice,’ said the frog. ‘And I do hope you will come and join us tonight. Now I must go and look for my six beautiful daughters. I’m afraid the pike, who’s a perfect monster, will make a meal of them. Goodbye! It’s been a pleasure talking to you. I must say I’ve enjoyed our conversation.’

‘Huh! Conversation indeed!’ snarled the rocket. ‘We did not have a conversation. You did all the talking.’

‘I like to do all the talking,’ replied the frog. ‘It prevents arguments and saves time.’

‘I like arguments,’ said the rocket.

‘Arguments are vulgar. Everyone in society knows that. Now I really must go. I see my daughters in the distance.’

And with that the little frog hopped away.

The rocket put his nose in the air and said in his usual supercilious fashion, ‘You are an annoying, ill-bred person. It’s very irritating to find somebody who talks about himself all the time when I want to talk about myself.

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