“Your strength is famous far and wide,” answered Ulenspiegel. “You cannot conceal it.”
“Ee—aw!” went the boatman. “Ee—aw!” went the boy.
Suddenly Ulenspiegel began again to sing like a lark very melodiously, and the men and women and workmen standing by were enchanted, and began to ask him where he had learnt the art of whistling so divinely.
“In Paradise,” answered Ulenspiegel, “whence I come.” Then he addressed himself to the boatman, who was still continuing his braying and mocking:
“Why do you stay there on your boat, you good-for-nothing? Haven’t you the courage to come and jeer at us and our steeds from the dry land?”
“Haven’t you the courage for that?” said Lamme.
“Ee—aw! Ee—aw!” went the boatman. “Come, my good bray-masters, come up rather into my boat.”
Then Ulenspiegel whispered to Lamme to do exactly as he did. But to the boatman he said aloud:
“If you are Stercke Pier, I am Tyl Ulenspiegel. And these two here are our donkeys, Jef and Jan, and they know how to bray better than you do, for that is their natural way of talking. As for coming on to your leaky decks, it is the last thing we wish to do. Your boat is like a tub, and each time that a wave comes along it shivers, and it knows no other way of walking save sideways-on like a crab.”
“Yes, like a crab!” said Lamme.