The Three Lazy Pigs

(Music. Lights come up on storyteller who enters stage right. Music fades as storyteller faces the front)

 

Storyteller: There was once a woman who carried with her three heavy heavy burdens called ‘sons’.

 

(Enter mother and three sons. Mother is sweeping or digging, sons sit down lazily.)

 

Laden down she was with their laziness, though they were not all as idle as each other, for the second bettered the first, and the third bested them both. All day long while she planted and ploughed, weeded and hoed, cooked and cleaned, hunted and harvested, the three sons sat on wicker rocking chairs (crafted by the mother) and lazed, slothfully smoking their pipes and humming tunes in the noonday sun. And when it rained they sat inside the house (built by the mother) huddled around the fire playng whist til’ midnight, drinking hot mead (made by the mother). Where was the husband might one ask ? The father was but one in a long line of inherited sloth handed down through history by some original father long since lost to posterity at the very source of the lazy so lazy stream which had at this end of the corridor of time resulted in three overweight sons who would lay in the afternoon sun filling their stomachs with seedcakes and jam, gorging on parsnip wine like pregnant pigs in hot summer. The father, too lazy to meet the hunting and farming responsibilites of a head of the household had sloped off to Ireland, never to be seen again… leaving the poor toiling mother to mind the pigs…

 

Mother: Sun’s going down. Pod, bring in the goats…

 

(Pod ignores her)

 

Mother: Pod, you lazy good for nothing. What I ever did to deserve an idle oaf like you for a son, I’ll never know. Bring in the goats or I’ll kick your pissin’ head in…

 

Pod: Oh, mother, stop you’re worrying, the sun isn’t down yet. The sun will wait for Pod ..another five minutes…or ten.

 

(he goes back to his lazing)

 

Mother: And Boze ! We need more water from the stream… go and fetch some before its too dark !

 

Boze: Oh, mother, dear mother, the stream was with running cool water this morning, I’m sure it will still be running cool in another five minutes…

 

(he lazes as well)

 

Mother: And you, Set, there’s nuts on the ground by the tree in the wood needing gathering before the mice and the squirrels get scent of them. We’ll have no hot chestnuts tonight if you don’t get off your fat arse and earn your keep !

 

Set: Oh mother, such a way with words you have. Very well…

 

(he gets up slowly and lazily)

 

Chestnuts for tea !

And an early night for me !

 

(he walks offstage leaving the other two lazing away)

 

Storyteller: And so it went on … day upon day, as cold winter melted into warm spring, and warm spring welcoming lovely hot summer, with hot summer dancing aside for melancoly autumn… the mother doing the work of a father and three sons … and if apple trees were questions, the largest rosy red cruncher which hung from the branch above their timber house would be asking: who was more the fool – the mother or the lazy sons…?

 

(sons and mother leave stage left)

 

But that night, when it turned out that idle Pod had forgotten to fetch in the goats, that good for nothing Boze had left the bucket by the stream; after filling it deciding it was too heavy to carry back; and when it came to light that lazy Set had returned with only the smallest nuts in meagre portion from the wood, the hair thin thread that held the old woman’s patience fastened to her sanity…snapped…and she could take no more !!!

 

 

(Enter three sons being chased by the raging mother with a broom)

 

Mother: Be gone from here and ne’er return

You’ll never again be my concern

Good for nothing, idle and slow

You had it easy, now its time to go

Time to work, go build a home

Into the world of toil you’ll roam

My conscience is clear, get away from here !

And I’ll never shed a single tear !!!

Be gone !

Sodd off !

Just go away

I’m rid of you til my dying day !

 

Pod: But mother dear, I am your son…

 

Boze: My dear mama this can’t be done !

 

Set: We promise to make good what we lack !

 

Mother: Just bugger off and don’t come back !!!

 

Storyteller: And into the wood, they quickly fled

Away from home cooking, away from warm bed

Into the trees and into the night

Filled with fear and full of fright !

 

(mother leaves and lights change to darker as if in a forest. The three wander fearfully through the dark. Varous noises are made from offstage

– an owl

– a hyena

– sounds of the wind and rustling

– then the distant howl of a wolf

– the howl gets louder

 

they leave the stage…enter the wolf, disguised as a man.)

 

Storyteller or someone else:

 

Out of the silence comes Wolf

With the howl of a dog and the laugh of a man

 

Keep your oaken doors bolted

And your children tucked up

Stoke up your fires

And shutter your windows

When out of the shadow comes Wolf

 

Out of the silence comes Wolf

With the howl of a dog and the laugh of a man

 

Cover your pathways

And lock up your sheep

Stable your horses

And lovers – huddle up close

And pray to your maker

When out of the shadow comes Wolf

 

Out of the silence comes Wolf

With the howl of a dog and the laugh of a man

 

Clear out your consciences

Silence your babes

Snuff out yor candles

And leave out your best fare

And hope he’s appeased

 

When out of the night

When out of the darkness

When out of the shadow

The howl of a dog

And the laugh of a man’

When out of the silence comes Wolf!!!

 

(Wolf leaves. Enter Pod, Boze and Set still terrified)

 

Pod: We must find shelter…

 

Boze: We need a house to live

 

Set: We should build one as soon as possible…did you hear that howling…?

 

Pod: Perhaps tomorrow !

 

Boze (yawning): Yes, it’s too late now…

 

Set: Yes, in the morning after a good sleep…

 

(howling from offstage. they all take fright and then set about building houses)

 

Storyteller: And so they set about building each a house for they couldn’t agree on the materials to use. Pod, the laziest of the three wanted to build a house of thatch, gathering straw from a nearby field. Boze, the middling of the idlers was in favour of sticks and branches, easy to be gathered in the forest all around them. But Set, the least of the lazers, was most afeared of the forest sounds and sang the tune of bricks and stone – harder work but sturdier protection. By morning they were each tucked up in his own house, one of soft straw, one of brittle sticks and one of strong bricks of stone. Proud they stood before their homes, the ripe fruit of honest hard work…born of the fear of the dark !!!

 

(Enter wolf who approaches house of straw. He peers in and knocks)

 

Storyteller: That first night away from the soft comforts of home, the lonely wolf-man, craving company, approached the house of straw…

 

Pod: Who’s there ? I said ? Who there ? I SAY ?

Say what you want then go away !

 

Wolf:

 

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Friend

Good friend of Mine

Open your door And let me in !!!

 

Storyteller: No reply was to be got

For Pod was frozen to the spot !!!

 

 

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Enemy

Enemy of Mine

Open your door And let me in!!!

 

Pod: By the hair on this chin, this chinny chin chin,

I’m sorry but I’ll not be letting you in ….!!!

 

(Wolf turns from man into howling wolf – he tears down the house and eats Pod)

(lights down then up on storyteller)

 

Storyteller: And then, the lonely wolf-man, craving just a little fiendly company, approached the house of sticks…

 

(Enter wolf who approaches house of sticks. He peers in and knocks)

 

Boze: Who’s that outside ? Who’s that I say ?

Name yourself then go away !

 

Wolf:

 

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Friend

Dear friend of Mine

Open your door And let me in !!!

 

Storyteller: No reply as Boze he froze

In fear from head down to his toes !!!!

 

 

Wolf: Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Enemy

Enemy of Mine

Open your door And let me in!!!

 

Boze: By the hair on this chin, this chinny chin chin

I’m damned if I’ll be letting you in !!!

 

(Wolf turns from man into howling wolf – he teras down the house and eats Boze)

(lights down then up on storyteller)

 

Storyteller: And so the ever so lonely but not so hungry wolf-man, craving just a little company – was it so much to ask ? – approached the house of stone…

 

Wolf: To sit in company beside a fire

I can think of nothing higher

Swigging coffee with a friend

How that my ailing heart would mend !

This house I see before me here

Is warm with fire and good cheer

I’ll knock and ask to go inside

I pray this door is opened wide !

 

(Enter wolf who approaches house of stone. He peers in and knocks)

 

Set: Who’s there ? I said ? Who there ? I say

There’s no one in so go away !

 

Wolf:

 

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Friend

Good friend of Mine

Open your door And let me in !!!

 

Set: I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that …

 

Wolf:

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Friend

Good friend of Mine

Open your door And let me in !!!

 

Set: I beg your pardon ?

 

Wolf: Never mind that…

 

Oh moon my Mother

Night my Father

Earth my Sister

And Wolf my Brother

Man my Enemy

Enemy of Mine

Open your door And let me in!!!

 

Set: By the hair on this chin, this chinny chin chin,

I’m buggered if I’ll be letting you in !!!

 

(Wolf turns from man into howling wolf)

(lights down then up on storyteller)

 

Storyteller: But no matter how hard he tried, how hard he pushed

The house of stone would not be crushed

He huffed and blew and punched and smashed

The house of bricks was anabashed

So onto the roof the wolf did climb

And down the chimney to do the crime

But Set he set a boiling pot

To greet the wolf as down he shot

 

(Wolf howls in pain)

 

Boiled alive the wolf to death

Alone to the last and lonely breath

And on the stove there died the wrath

As Wolf became a tasty broth

 

A week the wolfsome meal did last

For supper and to break his fast

He gorged himself on every bone

Inside the sturdy house of stone

 

But when the month was nearly done

Poor Set fell down quite overcome

A strange sensation in his heart

A terrible there ‘gan to start

 

And when the moon rose full and bright

A howl was heard across the night

And if you could see you’d see a sight

A wolf appearing taking flight

 

Through the door of a house of bricks

Past a pile of broken sticks

Across a path of trodden hay

A wolf out hunting for his prey…

 

Out of the shadow a wolf he prowls

With howling voice and hungry growls

With sharp white teeth and evil grin

 

(knock knock knock)

 

Open your door and let me in….!!!!

(end)

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