The Three Billy Goats Gruff

Once upon a time there were three billy goats, and the name of all three was Gruff. There was a little billy goat with little hooves, a middle billy goat with middling hooves, and a great big billy goat with hooves like soup pots.

On their side of the stream the grass was nibbled short. But across the water, up on the hillside, the grass grew sweet and deep and green, with buttercups in it. To get there, the goats had to cross a wooden bridge. And under that bridge lived a troll.

The troll had eyes like tin plates and a nose like a rain boot, and he was grumpy the way you get when you live under a bridge in the damp and nobody ever says good morning to you.

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First across came the little billy goat. Trip-trap, trip-trap, went his little hooves on the boards.

"WHO is trip-trapping over MY bridge?" roared the troll from underneath.

"Only me, the littlest Billy Goat Gruff," said the little goat, in a voice like a small bell. "I'm going up the hillside to make myself fat on the sweet green grass."

"I am coming up to gobble you!" roared the troll.

"Oh, please don't," said the little goat. "I'm hardly a mouthful. Wait for my brother. He is much bigger than I am."

"Hmf," said the troll, who liked the sound of bigger. "Be off with you, then."

So the little goat tripped and trapped across, and began to munch.

Next came the middle billy goat. TRIP-TRAP, TRIP-TRAP, went his middling hooves.

"WHO is trip-trapping over MY bridge?" roared the troll.

"Only me, the middle Billy Goat Gruff," said the middle goat, in a voice like a wooden spoon on a pot. "I'm going up the hillside to make myself fat on the sweet green grass."

"I am coming up to gobble you!"

"You could," said the middle goat, "but my brother is coming, and he is much, MUCH bigger than I am."

"Hmf," said the troll, rubbing his rain-boot nose. "Be off with you, then."

So the middle goat tripped and trapped across, and began to munch beside his brother.

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Last came the great big billy goat. TRIP-TRAP! TRIP-TRAP! The whole bridge creaked and bowed under his soup-pot hooves.

"WHO is trip-trapping over MY bridge?" roared the troll, climbing up onto the boards.

"IT IS I," said the great big billy goat, in a voice like thunder rolling down a mountain, "THE GREAT BIG BILLY GOAT GRUFF."

"Well," said the troll, though his voice had gone a little wobbly at the edges, "I am coming to gobble you!"

"You are welcome to try," said the great big billy goat.

The troll ran at him. The great big billy goat lowered his great big head, and BUMP! He bumped that troll right off the bridge, head over heels over head, and SPLASH! into the stream below.

The water carried the troll around one bend and then another, past a family of surprised ducks, and set him down gently on a warm sandy bank far, far downstream, in the sunshine. It was, if he was honest, the most comfortable he had been in years. He sat there drying his toes, and watching the light on the water, and thinking. Mostly he thought about manners, and how a troll who said good morning might get more good mornings back.

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Up on the hillside, the three billy goats Gruff ate the sweet green grass, and the buttercups too, until they were so fat they could hardly walk home. And if the grass has not run out, they are up there munching still.

Trip-trap, trip-trap. Snip, snap, snout. This tale's told out.