The Young Piper
by Walter Jerrold · from The reign of King Oberon
Adapted Version
Once, a boy loved music more than all. His name was Little Piper. He lived with his kin. He had three brothers. They were big and strong. Little Piper was other. He was small and stayed in his cradle. He could not walk. But he loved music. He made happy sounds all day.
People saw he was other. They talked about him. They said, "He is special." They didn't know why. But they were kind.
One day, a man named Tim came. Tim played the pipes. He made happy music. Little Piper heard the music. He sat up in his cradle. He smiled a big smile. He waved his arms. He kicked his legs. He loved the music!
Tim played more. Little Piper reached for the pipes. "Play! Music!" he said. His mother, Judy, gave him the pipes. Little Piper put them on. He played a song! It was a happy song. Tim was surprised. "Good player!" he said. "What a player!" Judy and Mick smiled. They were happy. Their boy could play music!
Mick bought Little Piper new pipes. They were just his size. Little Piper played them each day. He played happy tunes. People heard his music. They danced! They laughed! All loved his music.
Little Piper had a silly tune. When he played it, things danced! The chairs danced. The pots danced. The dog danced! It was very funny. Can you imagine?
Little Piper played tricks. He made toys dance. He spilled paint on the floor. He made his mother dance! She danced and spilled the milk. It was a silly mishap. All laughed.
Then, bad luck came. Things went wrong on the farm. The farmer said, "Find a new home." Mick felt sad. But he found a new job. They had to move.
The family packed their things. They put all on a cart. Little Piper sat in his cradle, pipes in hand. They started to go.
They came to a bridge. A river ran under it. The water was loud. Little Piper heard the water. He sat up. He saw the water. "Yippee!" he yelled with joy. He loved the water!
Mick was tired. "Please be quiet," he said. But Little Piper was excited. He saw the water. He held his pipes. He jumped! He jumped right into the river!
Judy shouted, "My boy!" They ran to look. They saw Little Piper. He sat on a wave. He played his pipes. The music was happy. He floated away. The family waved goodbye. They smiled. They knew he was happy.
Little Piper floated to a magic place. The fairies lived there. They loved music. They welcomed him. Little Piper played his pipes for them. He played and played. He was happy. He was home. His family smiled. They knew he belonged there.
Original Story
The Young Piper
There lived on the borders of the county of Tipperary a decently honest couple whose names were Mick Flanigan and Judy Muldoon. These poor people were blessed, as the saying is, with four children, all boys: three of them were as fine, stout, healthy, good-looking children as ever the sun shone upon; and it was enough to make any Irishman proud of his countrymen to see them about one o’clock on a fine summer day standing at their father’s cabin door, with their beautiful flaxen hair hanging in curls about their heads, and their cheeks like two rosy apples, and a big laughing potato smoking in their hands. A proud man was Mick of these fine children, and a proud woman, too, was Judy; and reason enough they had to be so. But it was far otherwise with the remaining one, which was the third eldest: he was the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned brat you ever saw: he was so ill-thriven that he never was able to stand alone, or to leave the cradle; he had long, shaggy, matted, curled hair, as black as the soot; his face was of a greenish-yellow colour; his eyes were like two burning coals, and were for ever moving in his head, as if they had had the perpetual motion. Before he was a twelvemonth old he had a mouthful of great teeth; his hands were like kite’s claws, and his legs were no thicker than the handle of a whip, and about as straight as a reaping hook: to make the matter worse, he had the appetite of a cormorant, and the whinge, and the yelp, and the screech, and the yowl was never out of his mouth.
The neighbours all suspected that he was something not right, particularly as it was observed, when people, as they do in the country, got about the fire and began to talk of religion and good things, the brat, as he lay in the cradle, which his mother generally put near the fire-place that he might be snug, used to sit up, as they were in the middle of their talk, and begin to bellow as if the devil was in him in right earnest: this, as I said, led the neighbours to think that all was not right, and there was a general consultation held one day about what would be best to do with him. Some advised one thing, and some another; at last one spoke of sending for the priest, who was a very holy and a very learned man, to see it. To this Judy of course had no objection, but one thing or another always prevented her doing so, and the upshot of the business was that the priest never saw him.
Things went on in the old way for some time longer. The brat continued yelping and yowling, and eating more than his three brothers put together, and playing all sorts of unlucky tricks, for he was mighty mischievously inclined; till it happened one day that Tim Carrol, the blind piper, going his rounds, called in and sat down by the fire to have a bit of chat with the woman of the house. So after some time, Tim, who was no churl of his music, yoked on the pipes, and began to bellows away in high style; when the instant he began, the young fellow, who had been lying as still as a mouse in his cradle, sat up, began to grin and twist his ugly face, to swing about his long tawny arms, and to kick out his crooked legs, and to show signs of great glee at the music. At last nothing would serve him but he should get the pipes into his own hands, and to humour him his mother asked Tim to lend them to the child for a minute. Tim, who was kind to children, readily consented; and as Tim had not his sight, Judy herself brought them to the cradle, and went to put them on him; but she had no occasion, for the youth seemed quite up to the business. He buckled on the pipes, set the bellows under one arm, and the bag under the other, worked them both as knowingly as if he had been twenty years at the business, and lilted up “Sheela na guira” in the finest style imaginable.
All were in astonishment: the poor woman crossed herself. Tim, who, as I said before, was dark, and did not well know who was playing, was in great delight; and when he heard that it was a little prechan not five years old, that had never seen a set of pipes in his life, he wished the mother joy of her son; offered to take him off her hands if she would part with him, swore he was born a piper, a natural genus, and declared that in a little time more, with the help of a little good instruction from himself, there would not be his match in the whole county. The poor woman was greatly delighted to hear all this, particularly as what Tim said about natural genus quieted some misgivings that were rising in her mind, lest what the neighbours said about his not being right might be too true; and it gratified her moreover to think that her dear child (for she really loved the whelp) would not be forced to turn out and beg, but might earn decent bread for himself. So when Mick came home in the evening from his work, she up and told him all that had happened, and all that Tim Carrol had said; and Mick, as was natural, was very glad to hear it, for the helpless condition of the poor creature was a great trouble to him. So next day he took the pig to the fair, and with what it brought set off to Clonmel, and bespoke a brand-new set of pipes of the proper size for him.
In about a fortnight the pipes came home, and the moment the chap in his cradle laid eyes on them, he squealed with delight and threw up his legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, and went on with a great many comical tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they gave him the pipes, and he immediately set to and pulled away at “Jig Polthog,” to the admiration of all that heard him.
The fame of his skill on the pipes soon spread far and near, for there was not a piper in the next six counties could come at all near him in “Old Moderagh rue,” or “The Hare in the Corn,” or “The Fox-Hunter’s Jig,” or “The Rakes of Cashel,” or “The Piper’s Maggot,” or any of the fine Irish jigs which make people dance whether they will or no: and it was surprising to hear him rattle away “The Fox Hunt”; you’d really think you heard the hounds giving tongue and the terriers yelping always behind, and the huntsman and the whippers-in cheering or correcting the dogs; it was, in short, the very next thing to seeing the hunt itself.
The best of him was he was noways stingy of his music, and many a merry dance the boys and girls of the neighbourhood used to have in his father’s cabin; and he would play up music for them, that they said used as it were to put quicksilver in their feet; and they all declared they never moved so light and so airy to any piper’s playing that ever they danced to.
But besides all his fine Irish music, he had one queer tune of his own, the oddest that ever was heard; for the moment he began to play it everything in the house seemed disposed to dance; the plates and porringers used to jingle on the dresser, the pots and pot-hooks used to rattle in the chimney, and people used even to fancy they felt the stools moving from under them; but, however it might be with the stools, it is certain that no one could keep long sitting on them, for both old and young always fell to capering as hard as ever they could. The girls complained that when he began this tune it always threw them out in their dancing, and that they never could handle their feet rightly, for they felt the floor like ice under them, and themselves every moment ready to come sprawling on their backs or their faces. The young bachelors that wished to show off their dancing and their new pumps, and their bright red or green and yellow garters, swore that it confused them so that they never could go rightly through the heel and toe, or cover the buckle, or any of their best steps, but felt themselves always all bedizzied and bewildered, and then old and young would go jostling and knocking together in a frightful manner; and when the unlucky brat had them all in this way, whirligigging about the floor, he’d grin and chuckle and chatter, for all the world like Jacko the monkey when he has played off some of his roguery.
The older he grew the worse he grew, and by the time he was six years old there was no standing the house for him; he was always making his brothers burn or scald themselves, or break their shins over the pots and stools. One time, in harvest, he was left at home by himself, and when his mother came in she found the cat a-horseback on the dog, with her face to the tail, and her legs tied round him, and the urchin playing his queer tune to them; so that the dog went barking and jumping about, and puss was mewing for the dear life, and slapping her tail backwards and forwards, which, as it would hit against the dog’s chaps, he’d snap it and bite, and then there was the philliloo. Another time, the farmer with whom Mick worked, a very decent, respectable man, happened to call in, and Judy wiped a stool with her apron, and invited him to sit down and rest himself after his walk. He was sitting with his back to the cradle, and behind him was a pan of blood, for Judy was making pig’s puddings. The lad lay quite still in his nest, and watched his opportunity till he got ready a hook at the end of a piece of twine, which he contrived to fling so handily that it caught in the bob of the man’s nice new wig, and soused it in the pan of blood. Another time his mother was coming in from milking the cow, with the pail on her head: the minute he saw her he lilted up his infernal tune and the poor woman, letting go the pail, clapped her hands aside and began to dance a jig, and tumbled the milk all atop of her husband, who was bringing in some turf to boil the supper. In short there would be no end to telling all his pranks, and all the mischievous tricks he played.
Soon after, some mischances began to happen to the farmer’s cattle. A horse took the staggers, a fine veal calf died, and some of his sheep; the cows began to grow vicious, and to kick down the milk pails, and the roof of one end of the barn fell in; and the farmer took it into his head that Mick Flanigan’s unlucky child was the cause of all the mischief. So one day he called Mick aside and said to him: “Mick, you see things are not going on with me as they ought, and to be plain with you, Mick, I think that child of yours is the cause of it. I am really falling away to nothing with fretting, and I can hardly sleep on my bed at night for thinking of what may happen before the morning. So I’d be glad if you’d look out for work somewhere else; you’re as good a man as any in the country, and there’s no fear but you’ll have your choice of work.”
To this Mick replied, that he was sorry for his losses, and still sorrier that he and his should be thought to be the cause of them; that for his own part he was not quite easy in his mind about that child, but he had him and so must keep him. And he promised to look out for another place at once.
So Mick gave out that he was about to leave his work at John Riordan’s, and immediately a farmer who lived a couple of miles off, and who wanted a ploughman (the last one having just left him), came up to Mick, and offered him a house and garden, and work all the year round. Mick, who knew him to be a good employer, immediately closed with him; so it was agreed the farmer should send a car to take his little bit of furniture, and that he should remove on the following Thursday.
When Thursday came, the car came according to promise, and Mick loaded it, and put the cradle with the child and his pipes on the top, and Judy sat beside it to take care of him, lest he should tumble out. They drove the cow before them, the dog followed, but the cat was of course left behind; and the other three children went along the road picking skee-hories (haws) and blackberries, for it was a fine day towards the latter end of harvest.
They had to cross a river, but as it ran through a bottom between two high banks, you did not see it till you were close on it. The young fellow was lying pretty quiet in the bottom of the cradle, till they came to the head of the bridge, when hearing the roaring of the water (for there was a great flood in the river, as it had rained heavily for the last two or three days), he sat up in his cradle and looked about him; and the instant he got a sight of the water and found they were going to take him across it, oh! how he did bellow and how he did squeal!—no rat caught in a snap-trap ever sang out equal to him.
“Whisht! a lanna,” said Judy, “there’s no fear of you; sure it’s only over the stone bridge we’re going.”
“Bad luck to you, you old rip!” cried he, “what a pretty trick you’ve played me, to bring me here!” And still he went on yelling, and the further they got on the bridge the louder he yelled, till at last Mick could hold out no longer, so giving him a skelp with the whip he had in his hand, “You brat!” he said, “will you never stop bawling? A body can’t hear their ears for you.”
The moment he felt the thong of the whip, he leaped up in the cradle, clapped the pipes under his arm, gave a most wicked grin at Mick, and jumped clean off the cart over the side of the bridge down into the water.
“O my child, my child!” shouted Judy, “he’s gone for ever from me.”
Mick and the rest of the children ran to the other side of the bridge, and looking over, they saw him coming out from under the arch of the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the top of a white-headed wave, and playing away on the pipes as merrily as if nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay and faster, than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill, about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own relations, the good people, to make music for them.
“They must have been well-rid of such an uncomfortable child,” said King Oberon, though it was noticed that he and most of the fairies were laughing to think of the astonishment which must have been shown by Mick and Judy when the young piper went plump over into the river off the cart-load of furniture.
They were still laughing when a voice exclaimed,
“Mine is a short story with a long name.”
At once the laughter stopped and all turned to the stool on which a quaint Gnome was sitting with one leg over the knee of the other and with his hands clasping his foot was rocking backwards and forwards until he saw that everybody’s attention was directed to him, when he went on to say:
“Sometimes when fairy-folk who are not so good as they might be, try to do harm to people by pretending to do them good, they are not so successful, as you will learn from my tale of
Story DNA
Moral
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Plot Summary
Mick and Judy Flanigan struggle with their third son, an ugly, sickly, mischievous 'brat' who never leaves his cradle. When a blind piper visits, the child miraculously demonstrates an innate, expert talent for playing the pipes, bringing his parents hope. However, his mischief escalates, and he develops a 'queer tune' that forces everyone to dance uncontrollably. After his pranks cause significant trouble and lead to his father losing his job, the family moves. While crossing a bridge, the child, upon seeing the river, leaps into the water, playing his pipes, and is carried away, never to be seen again, presumed to have returned to his fairy kin.
Themes
Emotional Arc
frustration to relief
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
Reflects common folk beliefs in Ireland regarding changelings or 'fairy children' who were often sickly or difficult, and the practice of leaving such children out for the fairies to reclaim.
Plot Beats (13)
- Mick and Judy Flanigan have four sons, three normal and one who is ugly, sickly, never leaves his cradle, and constantly yelps and eats excessively.
- The neighbors suspect the third son is 'not right' due to his appearance and behavior, especially his reactions to religious talk.
- A blind piper, Tim Carrol, visits and plays his pipes, causing the 'brat' to show great delight and an immediate, expert ability to play the instrument.
- Tim Carrol declares the child a natural piper, offering to teach him, which reassures Judy and gives Mick hope for the child's future.
- Mick buys the child a new set of pipes, and the child's skill quickly makes him famous, playing jigs that make everyone dance.
- The child also has a unique 'queer tune' that makes everything in the house dance and causes people to lose control of their feet.
- His mischief escalates, including tying the cat to the dog, dunking a farmer's wig in blood, and making his mother dance and spill milk on his father.
- The farmer Mick works for experiences a series of misfortunes and attributes them to the child, asking Mick to find work elsewhere.
- Mick finds new employment, and the family prepares to move, loading their belongings, including the child and his pipes, onto a cart.
- As they cross a bridge over a flooded river, the child, upon seeing the water, begins to yell and squeal uncontrollably.
- Mick, frustrated, whips the child, who then leaps out of the cradle, pipes in hand, and jumps into the river.
- The family watches in astonishment as the child floats away on a wave, playing his pipes merrily, and is never seen again.
- It is generally believed he returned to his own kind, the 'good people' (fairies), to make music for them.
Characters
The Young Piper ★ protagonist
Ill-thriven and never able to stand alone or leave the cradle. His body is small and weak, with legs no thicker than a whip handle and as crooked as a reaping hook. His hands are like kite's claws. He has an insatiable appetite.
Attire: No specific clothing is mentioned, but as an infant in a poor Irish family, he would likely be swaddled or wear simple, worn linen garments, possibly a plain shift or tunic, within his cradle.
Wants: To cause mischief and perhaps to return to his 'own relations, the good people.' He is driven by an innate, almost demonic, desire for chaos and music.
Flaw: His extreme sensitivity to water, which causes him distress and ultimately reveals his true nature.
He begins as a troublesome, sickly-looking infant, reveals his prodigious musical talent, continues his mischievous ways, and ultimately escapes his human family to return to his magical kin.
Mischievous, ill-tempered, musically gifted, cunning, defiant. He delights in playing pranks and causing trouble.
Image Prompt & Upload
A small, sickly-looking child with a very thin build, sitting cross-legged in a simple wooden cradle. He has long, shaggy, matted, curly black hair. His face is a greenish-yellow color, with round, dark, burning-coal-like eyes that dart around. He has a wide mouth showing great teeth. His hands are like kite's claws, and his legs are thin and crooked. He is wearing a plain, worn cream linen shift. He holds a set of Irish uilleann pipes under his arm, playing them with a mischievous grin. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Mick Flanigan ◆ supporting
A 'decently honest' Irish man, likely of sturdy build from manual labor, though no specific details are given. He is a farmer/ploughman.
Attire: Simple, practical working clothes typical of a 19th-century Irish farmer: likely a coarse linen or wool shirt, sturdy trousers, a waistcoat, and possibly a wide-brimmed hat or cap. His clothes would be functional and well-worn.
Wants: To provide for his family and find a solution for his problematic child.
Flaw: His inability to fully accept or understand his third child's true nature, leading to frustration and a moment of violence.
He struggles with the burden of his unusual child, tries to provide for him, and ultimately, in a moment of frustration, causes the child to reveal his true nature and leave.
Hard-working, responsible, troubled by his unusual child, ultimately decisive. He is initially proud of his healthy children but burdened by the third.
Image Prompt & Upload
A sturdy, adult Irish farmer, facing forward, full body visible from head to toe. He has a weathered face, short brown hair, and kind but weary eyes. He wears a coarse cream linen shirt, a dark brown wool waistcoat, sturdy grey trousers, and worn leather boots. He holds a simple leather whip in his right hand. His expression is a mix of concern and exasperation. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Judy Muldoon ◆ supporting
A 'decently honest' Irish woman, mother of four. No specific physical details are given, but she is a rural woman, likely of average build.
Attire: Typical 19th-century Irish peasant woman's attire: a long, practical linen or wool skirt, a plain blouse, a shawl, and an apron. Her clothes would be simple and functional.
Wants: To care for her children, especially her problematic third son, and to find a way for him to have a decent life.
Flaw: Her maternal love blinds her to the true, potentially dangerous, nature of her third child, and she is easily reassured by external opinions.
She struggles with the societal perception of her unusual child and her own misgivings, but her love for him remains. She experiences profound grief when he leaves.
Maternal, loving (even towards her difficult child), superstitious, easily swayed by hope. She is initially proud of her healthy children but also deeply loves her 'whelp.'
Image Prompt & Upload
A middle-aged Irish peasant woman, facing forward, full body visible from head to toe. She has a kind, slightly worried expression, with a round face and light brown hair tied back in a simple bun. She wears a long, dark blue wool skirt, a cream linen blouse, a practical dark green shawl draped over her shoulders, and a white linen apron tied at her waist. She holds a wooden milk pail in her left hand. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Tim Carrol ◆ supporting
A blind piper. No other specific physical details are given, but he would likely be a traveling musician, perhaps lean from his journeys.
Attire: Practical, somewhat worn clothing suitable for a traveling musician in 19th-century Ireland: likely a dark, sturdy coat, trousers, and a cap. His clothes would show signs of travel.
Wants: To earn a living through his music and share his talent.
Flaw: His blindness prevents him from seeing the Young Piper's unusual appearance, leading him to misinterpret the child's nature.
He serves as the catalyst for the Young Piper's musical development and helps the parents accept their child's unique talent, albeit unknowingly.
Kind, generous with his music, perceptive (despite his blindness), enthusiastic, and a good judge of musical talent.
Image Prompt & Upload
An elderly blind Irish man, facing forward, full body visible from head to toe. He has a kind, wrinkled face with sightless, milky blue eyes. His short, grey hair is slightly disheveled under a dark flat cap. He wears a dark brown wool coat, a faded green waistcoat, sturdy grey trousers, and worn leather boots. He holds a set of Irish uilleann pipes in his lap and a wooden walking stick leans against his side. A gentle, knowing smile plays on his lips. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Mick Flanigan's Cabin
A simple, small Irish cabin on the borders of Tipperary, likely with a thatched roof and a central hearth. The interior is humble, with a cradle placed near the fire-place for warmth.
Mood: Initially warm and familial for the healthy children, but tense and uneasy due to the 'ill-conditioned' third son. Later, filled with astonishment and a touch of magic.
The young piper's true nature is revealed when he plays the pipes for the first time; many mischievous pranks occur here.
Image Prompt & Upload
A cozy, dimly lit interior of a traditional Irish cottage. A rough-hewn stone hearth dominates one wall, with a small, wooden cradle nestled close to its warmth. Smoke curls gently from a peat fire, casting flickering shadows on the whitewashed, uneven walls. Simple wooden furniture, perhaps a stool or a small table, is visible. A single, small window with a wooden frame lets in a sliver of soft, diffused daylight. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
The River and Stone Bridge
A river running through a bottom between two high banks, not visible until close upon it. A stone bridge spans the river, which is in flood due to heavy rains.
Mood: Turbulent, dramatic, and ultimately magical as the piper escapes.
The young piper, after being struck by his father, leaps from the cart into the flooded river and is carried away, playing his pipes.
Image Prompt & Upload
A wide, ancient stone bridge with multiple arches spanning a rapidly flowing, swollen river. The water is a turbulent, muddy brown, churning with white-headed waves and eddies, reflecting a grey, overcast sky. The river banks are steep and muddy, with sparse, rain-soaked reeds and dark, wet earth. The bridge itself is constructed of rough, moss-covered grey stones, showing signs of age. A distant, winding road leads up to the bridge. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
