THE TALE OF THE OGRE
Day 1, Tale # 1 of Giambattista Basile’s "Il Pentamerone"
   retold in narrative verse by Laura J. Bobrow
      read by Laura J. Bobrow


      There was once a poor woman who had
      six daughters and one stupid lad,
      Antuono by name.  "You’re my curse.  You’re my shame.
      You were switched in the cradle.  You’re bad."

      Antuono just lazied about,
      wouldn’t listen as loud as she’d shout.
      She could stand it no more and so, opening the door,
      beat him soundly, and then threw him out.

      He meandered with no place to go.
      It grew dark and it threatened to snow.
      He trudged on until, at the edge of a hill,
      stood a grotto upon a plateau.

     Perched up high on the branch of a tree
             was an ogre so ugly to see
      any man would have quailed and his face would have paled.
      But Antuono went down on one knee,

      doffed his hat and said, "How do you do?"
      Then he tried to converse with him, too.
      "Can I help you get down?"  and, "How far’s the next town?
      It’s a pleasure, kind sir, to meet you."