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The Old Man and the Mouse: A Sicilian Folktale

An old man poured a glass of milk, and left it on the table.
A small mouse came and drank it up, as much as he was able.
The man returned, and when he saw the mouse right by the glass
He took a knife and clipped his tail just where it touched his ass.
The mouse cried out “Oh please, dear sir, return my tail to me!
I cannot do without the thing—I beg you, hear my plea!”
The old man said “You want your tail? Replace the milk right now!”
The mouse asked “How can I do that?” The old man said “A cow
Is what you need. Go ask a cow.” The mouse then left to look.
He found a sleepy cow and said “Dear cow, some milk I took.
Please give me a replacement to appease an angry party.
He’ll then return my missing tail, and I’ll be hale and hearty.”

The cow said “If you want my milk, I need to have some hay.
Once you bring a load of it, I’ll give you milk today.”
The mouse asked “Where can I find that?” The cow said “See that field?”
Go ask the field to give you hay, and then we’ll make a deal.”

The mouse went to the spacious field, and said “It’s hay I need!
If you give hay, I’ll bring it to the cow to give her feed.
She’ll then give me milk to bring to satisfy a geezer,
And he’ll return my tail to me. Please help this little cheeser!”
The field replied “I’m parched and dry. Bring water in a pail.
When I have had a long deep drink, I’ll help you without fail.”
The mouse asked “Where can I get that?” The field said “See that well?
Go ask the well for water, and I’m sure that he will tell
You how to get some water to fulfill your desperate aim.
A well is where the water is, so go there for the same.”
The mouse went to the well and cried “I need some water now!
I need to pay the field for hay to give a hungry cow.
The cow will give me milk to please a man whose milk I stole.
And he’ll then give my tail to me, to make my body whole!”

The well replied “I’m in bad shape—my bricks and stones are broken.
Go get a mason for repairs, and I’ll send down my oaken
Bucket to bring water up.” The mouse ran off to find one.
He came across a mason, and he seemed to be a kind one.
He asked the mason “Please come fix a well that’s falling down—
The well will give me water when his structure’s strong and sound.
I’ll give the water to the field, who then will give me hay.
I’ll give that to the cow who then will give me milk in pay.
The milk I’ll give to that old man who left me decaudated
(A fate that’s rendered me bereft, and one that I have hated).”

The mason laughed, and then replied “Before I work for you,
I need some breakfast. How about a nice fried egg or two?”
The mouse asked “Where can I find eggs?” The mason said “A hen
Is what you need. She’ll lay you some, and then come back again.”
The mouse sought out a sitting hen, and laid the matter out:
“Dear hen, please lay some eggs for me. In fact I have no doubt
That you can do it. Eggs I’ll bring, and give them to a guy
Who says he’ll fix the well for me. Oh hen, I hope you’ll try!
Once he’s fixed, the well will give me water for the field.
The field will blossom into growth, and hay will be its yield.
I’ll then feed it to the cow, and she will pump her udder
And fill a glass for the old man, and I will cease to shudder,
Since he’ll return my tail to me, and this bad dream will close—
I will be complete once more, and get deserved repose.”

The hen replied “I gladly would give you what you desire
But you must offer me some grain; my stomach is on fire
With hunger, and I cannot lay as long as this is true—
Get me grain and then I’ll try to see what I can do.”
The mouse replied “But where’s the grain? Just where can I find that?”
The hen said “Ask a farmer there—the one with the straw hat.”

The mouse went to the farmer and said “Farmer, give to me
Some grain so I can feed a hen who won’t lay eggs for free.
Once I get eggs I’ll give them to a mason for his trouble,
He’ll fix a well and then I’ll take the water on the double
To wet a field and get some hay to feed a swelling cow
Who’ll pay me back in milk I’ll use to settle up a row
I had with some old man who sliced the tail right off my rear.
I want to get it back again—to me my tail is dear.”

The farmer answered “If you help with fixing up my shed,
I’ll give you a full sack of grain. Now here’s the task ahead:
The roof is leaky and we need to patch it up with tar.
If you just bring the shingles up, I’ll follow not too far
Behind you, and together we will tar and patch the roof—
That is, if you can labor hard, and give to me some proof
That you’re an honest worker who is really worth his pay.
After that, I’ll give you grain, and you can go your way.”

The mouse agreed, and both of them climbed up to do the job.
The roof was old and slippery. The mouse tripped on a gob
Of soft wet tar, and fell down to the overhanging ledge,
And he could not cling to the roof’s old cracked and rotting edge.
Below him sat a bubbling vat of black and smoking pitch—
He plummeted right into it and felt his body twitch
A few brief seconds as he gave a pitiful sad squeak.
That’s the only sound he made. He could not even speak.
The flames consumed him in a wink, reducing him to ash,
And life went on the same without him after that brief flash.

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A Brief Note

The ancient folktale behind this poem was told to me and my brother when we were children in the early 1950s. The one who told it to us was our maternal grandfather Rosario Previti (1882-1967), a Sicilian poet, translator, journalist, woodworker, and violin maker. He told us the story in Sicilian, but also translated it for us into English. We liked the tale so much that we insisted that he tell it to us every time we came to his home for a visit. He always obliged.

The Sicilian title of the folktale is U Vecchiu e lu Surci (The Old Man and the Mouse), and versions of it are told all over Italy and beyond. One delightful aspect of the story for children is the slow buildup of repetition as the mouse explains his needs to each living creature or inanimate object that he encounters in his futile search for milk. His final death is a passing philosophical afterthought, with no meaning except as a silent ratification of the ultimate hopelessness of all endeavor, and perhaps of life itself.

The poem is in iambic heptameter catalectic, with just a few headless lines and feminine endings. This kind of galloping rhythm is perfectly suitable to simple folkloric narrative. Rhyming couplets keep the reader’s attention, and the section divisions are arranged according to natural breaks or pauses in the narrative flow.

Vecchiu: Old Man. From the Late Latin veclus, a syncopated form of the diminutive noun vetulus (little old man). Standard Italian for “old man” is vecchio.

Surci: Mouse. From the Latin sorex, soricis (the small animal known as a shrew in English). The term was used in Late Latin and Proto-Romance for mouse, and has survived in this Sicilian reflex, and in the French souris. Standard Italian for “mouse” is topo.

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Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide.  He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.


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9 Responses

  1. Mark Stellinga

    This reminds me of what’s going on in CA with ‘building permits’, Joe! Because of the mountain of red tape they’re being made to scale, some of those who lost their homes will be dead, I fear, before they’re replaced. This is quite the labor of love, and I can’t help but wonder how long it took to tie all these clever bits together! A really fun piece – 🙂

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Mark. California is now run by mentally deranged left-liberal religionists, so it’s unlikely any rebuilding will happen.

      As for the time it took me to write this poem, it was about two days, with a third day for touch-ups and revisions. It’s my most recent poem, and was composed late last month.

      Reply
  2. Roy Eugene Peterson

    This is a fascinating tale told with great rhyming skills that with repetition and panache could only be told by someone like you with an innate sensitivity resulting from having such a wonderful source for such a vivid children’s story. Back in the 1950’s, we had older generations that remembered such stories and communicated them to us in the absence of things like computer games. My grandfather used to tell me tales of his younger days of homesteading on the prairie and other stories from previous generations. These stories need to be preserved, and you have done a fantastic job giving us an entertaining one.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Roy. That older generation still retained a great many stories and poems and folktales, most of which have been lost since then. All of my grandparents were born in the 19th century (1879, 1881, 1882, 1889), in a semi-feudal agrarian society that still depended heavily on oral culture

      Reply
  3. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Joe, I just love this brilliantly biting wake-up-call of a poetic Sicilian folktale. I love the way it delivers a potent jolt of reality wrapped up in whimsy. Its darkly comic chain of events and shocking finale is enough to rob any self-centered child of the fairytale fantasy that life revolves around them. It also tells them bad choices come with consequences – how alarming! It’s not that I don’t have any pity for the poor mouse – I adore him! Any mouse that can teach a child a valuable life lesson is a hero. I was going to suggest this poem was read in every school, but I’m certain there would have to be a safe space to run to, a pygmy therapy-goat to stroke, and several counselors on hand if my idea came to fruition. Joe, thank you!

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Susan. In fact I do teach this folktale in my Classical Mythology section at Hunter College, by distributing a prose summary of it for discussion. My purpose is to introduce students to what is meant by a mythic narrative, and how such a narrative will make use of fantasy (a mouse that concocts complex plans, animals and inanimate objects that speak, and larger issues of life’s meaning) in order to create fictive mimesis.

      Hunter College has students from all over the world, and many of them told me that they had heard different versions of the tale in their countries. Russian students mentioned that in the Soviet Union the tale was altered to have a happy (and leftist) ending, with the mouse triumphant and all the social needs of the characters fulfilled. Typical of political delusion in a Communist state.

      I always tell my students this: “Are any of us any different from this mouse? Why are you sitting here in my lecture hall? You’re doing it to pass and go on to the next required class? You’re doing that to get a degree. You’re doing that to get a good job. You’re doing that to earn money. You’re doing that to buy a home in the suburbs. You’re doing that to be comfortable and have social status. You’re doing that to give your life meaning. And what’s the final result of all that striving? You wind up in a graveyard like everyone else.”

      Some students do get upset when I say that. When they complain, I just say “Grow up.”

      Reply
  4. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Dr. Salemi, three of my best military officer friends in the Army were Sicilian: Jim Coniglio out of Milwaukee, Ken Collucci out of Kansas City, and Sam Genovese out of Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania. The first two were Phoenix program classmates with me at Fort Bragg. Sam taught me counterintelligence and later was in command of a unit while I was the XO. He told me he once took his wife to a restaurant in New York and everything was free because of his name. It turned out it was owned by another Sam Genovese and staff figured he must be his son.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      LTC Peterson — you were in the famed but mysterious and very hush-hush Phoenix Program? Wow! It’s clear you are not anyone to be messed with. I have been told by some veterans that we could have won the Vietnam war if the Phoenix Program had been expanded rather than heavily restricted by Washington moralists.

      My father was drafted in 1942 because he spoke Sicilian, and he went into G-2 to be an interrogator of POWs, a translator of captured documents, and a handler of allied Italian resistance partisans. In fact, the Army scoured all of the Italian neighborhoods of America to find military-age males who could speak Italian and its various dialects, so that Italian POWs could be interrogated and debriefed. You can consult my essay “Henny and Sal” here at the SCP archives (November 14, 2022) to read about his war experiences.

      Yes, if you are family, you will never be asked to pay in an Italian restaurant. My wife’s grandfather had a relative who owned a small place near where he lived, and this relative told him to show up anytime he wanted for a free meal.

      Reply
  5. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Dr. Salemi, I had been unaware of an Essay Archive until you mentioned it. There is a wealth of knowledge to be found. I avidly read your essay/article and could identify both with them and you. You were so accurate about the bonding and the veiled references. As Commander of a major debriefing (interrogation) unit, XO of one, and Ops Officer of the most secret one, I was one of the most experienced in the Army. Regarding the Phoenix Program, I wrote a book, “Fight of the Phoenix,” detailing aspects of the program and my experiences in Vietnam. I used FOIA to declassify a report on Viet Cong taxation of the South Vietnamese that was used by the CIA and us. I also was able to save some slips of paper on the daily briefings showing where, how, and how many the Viet Cong killed on a daily basis, such as school children from a village that would not come over to their side.

    Reply

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