The Old Man Who Sang

Long, long ago, in a quiet little village, there lived an old man who dearly loved to sing. On one of his cheeks he carried a small, round lump. And so the villagers fondly called him the old man with the lump.

He had a kind and gentle heart, and he sang more beautifully than anyone. Even when he climbed the mountain to gather firewood, he hummed his soft, sweet tunes. The birds would pause on their branches just to listen.

One day he worked so long among the trees that the daylight slipped away. The old man found an empty little hut and decided to rest there for the night. Deep in the mountains, the dark grew quieter and quieter.

Feeling a touch lonely, the old man began to sing very softly. A warm and tender melody drifted gently through the little hut. The song was so lovely that it floated out and rippled all through the sleeping mountains.

Just then, from somewhere in the dark, the goblins came gathering near. These goblins were not so frightful, only playful and full of mischief, and there was nothing in the world they loved more than a song. Charmed by the old man’s singing, they perked up their ears to listen.

“Old man, wherever does such a lovely song come from?” the goblins asked. The old man paused for a moment, then pointed at the lump on his cheek, as if it were a little joke. “Well now, I suppose it must come from this lump of mine.”

The goblins’ eyes grew wide as moons. “Then please give us that lump! We will give you treasure in return.” And they laid out heaps of glittering gold and silver and jewels.

So the goblins gently lifted the lump from the old man’s cheek. And how strange, it did not hurt at all. With treasure in his arms and his cheek light and smooth, the old man went home with the lightest heart of all.

Soon the story spread all the way to the next village over. There, too, lived an old man with a lump, but this one was very greedy. When he heard the tale of the treasure, his eyes lit up at once.

The greedy old man went straight to that very hut, on purpose. As soon as the goblins gathered, he hurried into a song. But his tune was rough and clumsy, and there was no warm heart inside it at all.

The goblins tilted their heads, puzzled. “Somehow your song has no warmth in it,” they said. Still the greedy old man pointed at his lump and insisted, “It comes from this lump of mine, now hurry and give me my treasure!”

The goblins talked it over among themselves, then broke into wide grins. “That last lump never gave us any song at all. You may take this one too!” And they pressed the lump they had taken before right onto his other cheek.

So the greedy old man went home with not one lump, but two. When he looked into the mirror, even he felt ashamed. His heart, which had thought only of treasure, made him blush all over.

Little by little, he began to set his greed aside. And as the days went by, his heart grew calm and content at last. The tale of the two old men was told softly in that village for many, many years to come.