Daub in clay, Stuff in straw!
Daub in clay, Stuff in straw.
Yes, she did so, and found she could carry water in a sieve well enough; but when she got home with the water, and the old witch saw the sieve, she cried out:
“THIS YOU HAVEN’T SUCKED OUT OF YOUR OWN BREAST.”
So the old witch said, now she might go into the byre to pitch out dung and milk kine; but when she got there, she found a pitchfork so long and heavy, she couldn’t stir it, much less work with it. She didn’t know at all what to do, or what to make of it; but the little birds sang again that she should take the broom-stick and toss out a little with that, and all the rest of the dung would fly after it. So she did that, and as soon as ever she began with the broom-stick, the byre was as clean as if it had been swept and washed.
Now she had to milk the kine, but they were so restless that they kicked and frisked; there was no getting near them to milk them.
But the little birds sang outside:
A little drop, a tiny sup,
For the little birds to drink it up.
Yes, she did that; she just milked a tiny drop, ’twas as much as she could, for the little birds outside; and then all the cows stood still and let her milk them. They neither kicked nor frisked; they didn’t even lift a leg.
So when the old witch saw her coming in with the milk, she cried out:
“THIS YOU HAVEN’T SUCKED OUT OF YOUR OWN BREAST. BUT NOW JUST TAKE THIS BLACK WOOL AND WASH IT WHITE.”