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A PUZZLE - Old Scottish Riddle - A Baba Indaba Children's Story

A PUZZLE – Old Scottish Riddle – A Baba Indaba Children’s Story

ISSN: 2397-9607 Issue 77

In Issue 77 of the Baba Indaba Children’s Stories, Baba Indaba narrates an old Scottish riddle used to teach children. It goes something like this…..in Scotland, there was a custom once through the Gældom, when a man would die, that the whole people of the place would gather together to the house in which the dead man was called Tigh aire faire (the shealing of watching, now better known as a wake), and they would be at drinking, and singing, and telling tales, till the white day should come.

 

At this time they were gathered together in the house of watching, and there was a man in this house, and when the tale went about, he had neither tale nor song, and as he had not, he was put out at the door. When he was put out he stood at the end of the barn; he was afraid to go farther. He was but a short time standing when a number of apparitions passed him by. When he asked an old woman for an explanation, he was left even more perplexed…… So what was so mystifying about the apparitions and the explanation he received? Well you’ll just have to download and read the story to find out what went on.

 

INCLUDES LINKS TO 8 FREE STORIES TO DOWNLOADS

 

Each issue also has a “WHERE IN THE WORLD – LOOK IT UP” section, where young readers are challenged to look up a place on a map somewhere in the world. The place, town or city is relevant to the story, on map. HINT – use Google maps.

 

eBooks available in PDF and ePub formats. Link: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Anon_E_Mouse_A_PUZZLE_An_Old_Scottish_Riddle?id=Ec8VDAAAQBAJ

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Low and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered,
Where I had seven sons until to-day—
A little hill of hay your spur has scattered….
This is not Paris. You have lost the way.

You, staring at your sword to find it brittle,
Surprised at the surprise that was your plan,
Who shaking and breaking barriers not a little,
Find never more the death-door of Sedan.

Must I for more than carnage call you claimant,
Paying you a penny for each son you slay?
Man, the whole globe in gold were no repayment
For what you have lost. And how shall I repay?

What is the price of that red spark that caught me
From a kind farm that never had a name?
What is the price of that dead man they brought me?
For other dead men do not look the same.

How should I pay for one poor graven steeple
Whereon you shattered what you shall not know?
How should I pay you, miserable people,
How should I pay you everything you owe?

Unhappy, can I give you back your honour?
Though I forgave, would any man forget?
While all the great green land has trampled on her
The treason and terror of the night we met.

Not any more in vengeance or in pardon,
One old wife bargains for a bean that’s hers.
You have no word to break: no heart to harden.
Ride on and prosper. You have lost your spurs.

G. K. Chesterton 1917

From POEMS of the GREAT WAR raising funds for the Royal British Legion (the equivalent of the Returned Servicemen’s Association or Veterans Association)

http://abelapublishing.com/poems-of-the-great-war–1914-to-1918_p28280158.htm

Poems of the Great War_wpers

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