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“Why, don’t you know yet, Mother?” wailed the eldest
daughter.
“Some day I’ll marry and have a son
With hair of chestnut brown.
One day, I know he’ll climb this tree
And he’ll come tumbling down.
Alas, alas, Kikos dear!
Alas, dear Kikos is dead!”
“Alas, alas! Why am I still living, dear Kikos? It were better
that your poor old grandmother should be dead herself,
than to have this happen to you!” wailed the woman.
The peasant couldn’t understand where they had all gone.
He began to look for them, and finally found them at the
spring.
As soon as they saw him coming, they all ran to meet him,
crying.
“Come, quick, you unfortunate grandfather! See what has
happened to your favourite grandson Kikos!”
“Who’s a grandfather? Who’s Kikos?” asked the astounded
man. “What’s this all about, anyway? I don’t understand. . .
“What! You don’t understand? Haven’t you heard?”