The Three Billy Goats Gruff

Upon a hillside lived three billy goats.

There was a little billy goat, a medium billy goat and a big billy goat. Gruff was their last name and—for many miles around—they were known as the Three Billy Goats Gruff.

They dearly loved their hillside meadow, but it had grown bare. A bleak winter had stripped away the grass and all that remained were a few measly green tufts scattered sparingly amongst the mud and rocks.

Higher up the hill stood a lush green meadow filled with a bounty of the finest, juiciest long grass. To the billy goats it looked simply sublime.

“By golly,” thought the Little Billy Goat Gruff, “Look at all of that luscious grass up there. I must go straight away to eat bellies full of it so I can grow as big as my biggest brother.”

The little billy goat trotted off to the lush meadow—without telling either of his brothers where he was going.

Tippity-tap.

Tippity-tap.

Tippity-tap.

Before long he came across a great river. Stretching across the river was a magnificent stone bridge. But—unbeknown to the little billy goat—this bridge belonged to a beastly Troll.

The little billy goat had not taken more than a few steps onto the bridge when a great bellowing voice boomed out from below.

“Who goes there?” roared the Troll.

“It’s me, the Littlest Billy Goat Gruff,” he replied, in a high timid voice.

The Troll raised his ugly head from beneath the bridge and said in a very sinister voice.

“This is my bridge, Littlest Billy Goat Gruff, and this is where your journey will end as I will now gobble you up for my breakfast.”

The little billy goat was terribly shaken by this, but he steadied himself and managed to reply.

“Mr Troll, you are such a magnificent creature, such a very little goat as I would surely not fill your hungry belly. I have a brother who is a great deal bigger than I am. Wait ‘til he comes and you’ll have a much better meal.”

“A great deal bigger you say,” said the Troll.

“Oh yes, Mr Troll,”

“Very well, you may pass,” said the Troll.

Not wanting to waste a single moment the little billy goat made his way briskly across the bridge.

Tippity-tap.

Tippity-tap.

Tippity-tap.

And once he was safely over, he ran as fast as his little legs would carry him to the lush meadow and began munching on the long grass.

Meanwhile, back on the barren hillside, the medium billy goat looked up at the lush meadow in wonder.

“By golly,” thought the Medium Billy Goat Gruff, “Look at all of that luscious grass up there. I must go straight away to eat bellies full of it so I can grow big, just like my big brother.”

The medium billy goat trotted off to the lush meadow—he too didn’t tell his big brother where he was going.

Trippity-trap.

Trippity-trap.

Trippity-trap.

Before long he too came across the great river and the magnificent stone bridge. And he too did not know this bridge belonged to the beastly Troll.

The medium billy goat had not taken more than a few steps onto the bridge when a great bellowing voice boomed out from below.

“Who goes there?”

“It’s me, the Medium Billy Goat Gruff,” he replied, in a slightly lower voice.

The Troll raised his ugly head from beneath the bridge.

“This is my bridge, Medium Billy Goat Gruff, and this is where your journey will end as I will now gobble you up for my lunch.”

The medium billy goat too was shaken, but he steadied himself and replied calmly.

“Mr Troll, you are such a magnificent creature. Such a medium-sized goat as I would surely not fill your hungry belly. I have a brother who is a great deal bigger than I am. Wait ‘til he comes and you’ll have a much better meal.”

“A great deal bigger you say,” said the Troll.

“Oh yes, Mr Troll,”

“Very well, you may pass,” said the Troll.

Not wanting to waste a single moment the medium billy goat made his way briskly across the bridge.

Trippity-trap.

Trippity-trap.

Trippity-trap.

And once he was safely over, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the lush meadow and, he too, began munching on the juicy grass.

Now came the turn of Biggest Billy Goat Gruff.

He'd had been much too busy scouring the barren hillside for something to eat to realise his brothers were gone. When he looked up he saw them grazing happily in the luscious hilltop meadow.

“Oh my!” thought the biggest billy goat, “I must join my brothers in that delightful meadow.”

So the biggest billy goat set off to the meadow.

Clumpity-clump.

Clumpity-clump.

Clumpity-clump.

Before long he too came across the great river and the magnificent stone bridge. And, just like his two brothers before him, he too did not know this bridge belonged to the beastly Troll.

The biggest billy goat had not taken more than a few steps onto the bridge when a great bellowing voice boomed out from below.

“Who goes there?”

“It’s me, the Biggest Billy Goat Gruff,” he replied, in a strong, confident voice.

The Troll raised his ugly head from beneath the bridge.

“This is my bridge, Biggest Billy Goat Gruff, and this is where your journey will end as I will now gobble you up for my supper.”

The biggest billy goat was not shaken one little bit. In fact, he found the Troll’s threat quite amusing. He was, after all, the biggest, strongest billy goat and he was not afraid of anything.

“Ha! You do make me laugh, Troll,” he said.

The Troll—incensed by this—quickly jumped upon the bridge, let out an angry roar and began to charge at the Biggest Billy Goat Gruff.

To this the biggest billy goat calmly bent his front legs and bowed his head—exposing two great horns on his head like a knight drawing his sword. Then, without delay, he charged back.

Moments later there was a mighty collision.

As the dust began to settle, it became clear that only one figure remained on the bridge.

Then, the dusty figure began to move.

Clumpity-clump.

Clumpity-clump.

Clumpity-clump.

It was the Biggest Billy Goat Gruff making his way over the bridge to the luscious meadow.

So, what had happened to the beastly Troll? Well, you see, the biggest billy goat had generated such a force that the Troll had been flung high up into the air, over the side of the bridge and carried downstream by the great river.

From that day forward, the horrid Troll was never seen again.

The Three Billy Goats Gruff were happily reunited in the lush hilltop meadow. And they each had a plentiful fill of juicy grass. In fact, the little and medium billy goats ate so much grass that—before long—you could not tell one Billy Goat Gruff from another.

The End