The Louse and the Flea
A louse and a flea kept house together and were
brewing beer in an egg-shell. Then the little louse fell in and burnt herself. At this the
little flea began to scream loudly. Then said the little room-door, little flea, why are
you screaming. Because the louse has burnt herself. Then the little door began to creak.
At this a little broom in the corner said, why are you creaking, little door. Have I not
reason to creak. The little louse has burnt herself, the little flea is weeping. So the
little broom began to sweep frantically. Then a little cart passed by and said, why are
you sweeping, little broom. Have I not reason to sweep. The little louse has burnt
herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking. So the little cart said,
then I will run, and began to run like mad. Then said the ash-heap by which it ran, why
are you running so, little cart. Have I not reason to run. The little louse has burnt
herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little broom is
sweeping. The ash-heap said, then I will burn furiously, and began to burn in clear
flames. A little tree stood near the ash-heap and said, ash-heap, why are you burning.
Have I not reason to burn. The little louse has burnt herself, the little flea is weeping,
the little door is creaking, the little broom is sweeping, the little cart is running. The
little tree said, then I will shake myself, and began to shake herself so that all her
leaves fell off. A girl who came up with her water-pitcher saw that, and said, little
tree, why are you shaking yourself. Have I not reason to shake myself. The little louse
has burnt herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little
broom is sweeping, the little cart is running, the little ash-heap is burning. At this the
girl said, then I will break my little water-pitcher. And she broke her little
water-pitcher. Then said the little spring from which ran the water, girl, why are you
breaking your water-pitcher. Have I not reason to break my water-pitcher. The little louse
has burnt herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little
broom is sweeping, the little cart is running, the little ash-heap is burning, the little
tree is shaking itself. Oh, ho, said the spring, then I will begin to flow, and began to
flow violently. And in the water everything was drowned, the girl, the little tree, the
little ash-heap, the little cart, the broom, the little door, the little flea, the little
louse, all together.
--The End-- |
