The Bremen Town Musicians

A man had a donkey that had carried sacks to the mill tirelessly for many years. But now the donkey’s strength was failing, and he grew less and less fit for work. His master began to think of getting rid of him. The donkey, sensing that an ill wind was blowing, ran away and set off on the road to Bremen. There, he thought, I can become a town musician.

He had not gone far when he found a hunting dog lying by the road, panting like one who has run until he is exhausted. “Why are you panting so, old Grab-hold?” asked the donkey. “Ah,” said the dog, “because I’m old and getting weaker every day and can no longer hunt, my master wanted to kill me, so I ran away. But how am I to earn my bread now?” “I’ll tell you what,” said the donkey. “I’m going to Bremen to be a town musician. Come with me. I’ll play the lute and you can beat the kettledrum.” The dog was happy to agree, and they went on together.

Soon they came upon a cat sitting by the road with a face as long as three days of rain. “What’s gone wrong for you, old Whisker-wiper?” asked the donkey. “Who can be cheerful when his neck is in danger?” said the cat. “Because I’m getting on in years, and my teeth are blunt, and I’d rather sit behind the stove and purr than chase mice, my mistress wanted to drown me. I got away, but now what?” “Come with us to Bremen. You know all about night music; you can be a town musician.” The cat thought that a fine idea and went along.

Next the three runaways passed a farmyard where a rooster sat on the gate, crowing with all his might. “Your crowing goes right through a body,” said the donkey. “What’s the matter?” “The housewife has guests coming on Sunday,” said the rooster, “and she has told the cook to make soup of me. Tonight my head is to be cut off, so I’m crowing at the top of my lungs while I still can.” “Nonsense, Red-comb,” said the donkey. “Come with us. You can find something better than death anywhere. You have a good voice, and when we make music together it will be something quite special.” So the four of them went on together.

They could not reach Bremen in one day, and in the evening they came to a forest where they decided to spend the night. The donkey and the dog lay down under a large tree, the cat climbed into the branches, and the rooster flew to the very top, where it was safest. Before he fell asleep, the rooster looked around in all four directions and saw a little light shining in the distance. The friends agreed to go toward it, for their lodging was poor and the dog thought a few bones with a bit of meat on them would do him good.

The light came from a brightly lit house where a band of robbers lived. The donkey, being the tallest, crept to the window and looked in. “What do you see, Grey-horse?” asked the rooster. “A table laid with fine food and drink, and robbers sitting around it enjoying themselves.” “That would be just the thing for us,” said the rooster. So the animals worked out a plan. The donkey stood with his front hooves on the windowsill, the dog jumped onto the donkey’s back, the cat climbed onto the dog, and the rooster flew up and perched on the cat’s head. At a signal they all began to make their music together: the donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat meowed and the rooster crowed. Then they crashed through the window into the room, with the glass clattering all around them.

The robbers leapt up at the horrible noise, convinced that a ghost had burst in, and fled in terror into the forest. The four companions sat down at the table and ate as though they would go hungry for a month.

When they had finished, they put out the light and each found a sleeping place to suit his nature: the donkey on the dung heap in the yard, the dog behind the door, the cat on the hearth near the warm ashes, and the rooster up on the roof beam. After midnight, the robbers saw that the house was dark and quiet, and their captain said, “We shouldn’t have let ourselves be scared off so easily,” and sent one of them back to look around.

The robber found everything still. He went into the kitchen to light a candle and, mistaking the cat’s glowing, fiery eyes for live coals, held a match to them to catch the flame. The cat flew at his face, spitting and scratching. Terrified, he ran for the back door, but the dog leapt up and bit him in the leg. As he raced across the yard past the dung heap, the donkey gave him a mighty kick with its hind leg, and the rooster, woken by the noise, cried from the roof beam, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

The robber ran back to his captain as fast as he could. “In that house sits a horrible witch who hissed at me and scratched my face with her long fingers! By the door stands a man with a knife who stabbed me in the leg! In the yard lies a black monster that beat me with a wooden club! And up on the roof sits the judge, who shouted, ‘Bring me the scoundrel!’ I got out of there as fast as I could.” From then on the robbers never dared go back to the house. But the four musicians liked it so much there that they never wanted to leave, and they never did get to Bremen.