Valiant Vicky the brave weaver poem
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6. THE BRAVE WEAVER
03.27.2012, by admin, Indian Tales
Once upon a time there lived a little weaver, by the name of Victor Prince, but because his head was big, his legs thin, and he was so small, and weak, his neighbours called him Vicky— Little Vicky the Weaver.
But despite his size, his thin legs, and his ridiculous appearance, Vicky was very brave, and loved to talk for hours of his bravery, and the heroic acts he would perform if Fate gave him an opportunity. Only Fate did not, and as a result Vicky remained little Vicky the brave weaver, who was laughed at by everyone for his boasting.
Now one day, as Vicky was sitting at his loom, weaving, a mosquito settled on his left hand just as he was throwing the shuttle from his right hand, and by chance, the shuttle came flying into his left hand on the very spot where the mosquito had settled, and squashed it. Seeing this, Vicky became desperately excited: ‘It is as I have always said,’ he cried; ‘if I only had the chance I knew I could show my courage! Now, I’d like to know how many people could have done that. Killing a mosquito is easy, and throwing a shuttle is easy, but to do both at one time is very special! It is easy enough to shoot a great strong man—there is something to see, something to aim at but to shoot a mosquitowith a shuttle is quite another thing. That requires a special man!’
The more he thought over the matter, the more thrilled he became over his skill and bravery, until he decided that he would no longer allow himself to be called ‘Vicky.’ No! Now that he had shown his ability he would be called ‘Victor’—’Victor Prince’—or better still, ‘Prince Victor’; that was a name worthy of his ability. But when he announced this determination to the neighbours, they roared with laughter, and though some did call him Prince Victor, it was with such sniggering and giggling that the little man flew home in a rage. Here was no better, for his wife, a fine handsome young woman, who was tired of her ridiculous little husband’s ridiculous ideas, sharply told him to hold his tongue and not make a fool of himself. Then, deciding to stay no longer in a town where his abilities were not appreciated, he told her to prepare some bread for a journey, and set about packing his bundle.
‘I will go into the world!’ he said to himself. ‘The man who can shoot a mosquito dead with a shuttle should show himself to the world.’ So off he set, with his bundle, his shuttle, and a loaf of bread.
Now as he traveled he came to a city where a terrible elephant came every day to attack the people living there. Many mighty warriors had gone against it, but none had returned. On hearing this, the brave little weaver thought to himself, ‘Now here is my chance! A great elephant will be a fine challenge for a man who has shot a mosquito with a shuttle!’ So he went to the King, and announced that he proposed single-handed to meet and kill the elephant. At first the King thought the little man was mad, but as he stubbornly insisted, he told him that he was free to try his luck if he chose to run the risk.
Nevertheless, our brave weaver was not bothered. He even refused to take either sword or bow, but strutted out to meet the elephant armed only with his shuttle.
‘It is a weapon I thoroughly understand, good people,’ he replied boastfully to those who urged him to choose some more deadly weapon, ‘and it has done its work in its time, I can tell you!’
It was an amazing sight to see little Vicky strutting out to meet his enemy, while the townsfolk flocked to the walls to witness the fight. There was never such a brave weaver until the elephant, seeing its tiny opponent, trumpeted fiercely, and charged right at him, and then, alas! All the little man’s courage disappeared, and forgetting his new name of Prince Victor he dropped his bundle, his shuttle, and his bread, and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.
03.27.2012, by admin, Indian Tales
Once upon a time there lived a little weaver, by the name of Victor Prince, but because his head was big, his legs thin, and he was so small, and weak, his neighbours called him Vicky— Little Vicky the Weaver.
But despite his size, his thin legs, and his ridiculous appearance, Vicky was very brave, and loved to talk for hours of his bravery, and the heroic acts he would perform if Fate gave him an opportunity. Only Fate did not, and as a result Vicky remained little Vicky the brave weaver, who was laughed at by everyone for his boasting.
Now one day, as Vicky was sitting at his loom, weaving, a mosquito settled on his left hand just as he was throwing the shuttle from his right hand, and by chance, the shuttle came flying into his left hand on the very spot where the mosquito had settled, and squashed it. Seeing this, Vicky became desperately excited: ‘It is as I have always said,’ he cried; ‘if I only had the chance I knew I could show my courage! Now, I’d like to know how many people could have done that. Killing a mosquito is easy, and throwing a shuttle is easy, but to do both at one time is very special! It is easy enough to shoot a great strong man—there is something to see, something to aim at but to shoot a mosquitowith a shuttle is quite another thing. That requires a special man!’
The more he thought over the matter, the more thrilled he became over his skill and bravery, until he decided that he would no longer allow himself to be called ‘Vicky.’ No! Now that he had shown his ability he would be called ‘Victor’—’Victor Prince’—or better still, ‘Prince Victor’; that was a name worthy of his ability. But when he announced this determination to the neighbours, they roared with laughter, and though some did call him Prince Victor, it was with such sniggering and giggling that the little man flew home in a rage. Here was no better, for his wife, a fine handsome young woman, who was tired of her ridiculous little husband’s ridiculous ideas, sharply told him to hold his tongue and not make a fool of himself. Then, deciding to stay no longer in a town where his abilities were not appreciated, he told her to prepare some bread for a journey, and set about packing his bundle.
‘I will go into the world!’ he said to himself. ‘The man who can shoot a mosquito dead with a shuttle should show himself to the world.’ So off he set, with his bundle, his shuttle, and a loaf of bread.
Now as he traveled he came to a city where a terrible elephant came every day to attack the people living there. Many mighty warriors had gone against it, but none had returned. On hearing this, the brave little weaver thought to himself, ‘Now here is my chance! A great elephant will be a fine challenge for a man who has shot a mosquito with a shuttle!’ So he went to the King, and announced that he proposed single-handed to meet and kill the elephant. At first the King thought the little man was mad, but as he stubbornly insisted, he told him that he was free to try his luck if he chose to run the risk.
Nevertheless, our brave weaver was not bothered. He even refused to take either sword or bow, but strutted out to meet the elephant armed only with his shuttle.
‘It is a weapon I thoroughly understand, good people,’ he replied boastfully to those who urged him to choose some more deadly weapon, ‘and it has done its work in its time, I can tell you!’
It was an amazing sight to see little Vicky strutting out to meet his enemy, while the townsfolk flocked to the walls to witness the fight. There was never such a brave weaver until the elephant, seeing its tiny opponent, trumpeted fiercely, and charged right at him, and then, alas! All the little man’s courage disappeared, and forgetting his new name of Prince Victor he dropped his bundle, his shuttle, and his bread, and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.
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