“Out upon you, moujik! What do you want money for? why you’ve got on a sheep-skin jacket. What’s the good of that? It will soon be summer; anyhow you won’t be wanting to wear it. Off with the jacket, and to the pot-house we’ll go.”
So the peasant went with Woe into the pot-house, and they drank the sheep-skin away.
The next day Woe began groaning—its head ached from yesterday’s drinking—and again bade the master of the house have a drink.
“I’ve no money,” said the peasant.
“What do we want money for? Take the cart and the sledge; we’ve plenty without them.”
There was nothing to be done; the peasant could not shake himself free from Woe. So he took the cart and the sledge, dragged them to the pot-house, and there he and Woe drank them away. Next morning Woe began groaning more than ever, and invited the master of the house to go and drink off the effects of the debauch. This time the peasant drank away his plough and his harrow.
A month hadn’t passed before he had got rid of everything he possessed. Even his very cottage he pledged to a neighbor, and the money he got that way he took to the pot-house.
Yet another time did Woe come close beside him and say:
“Let us go, let us go to the pot-house!”
“No, no, Woe! it’s all very well, but there’s nothing more to be squeezed out.”