📚📚"Folktales of England" by Katharine M. Briggs and Ruth L. Tongue

She upped and oped it, and there, sure enough, were the little oo’d thing a-settin’ on the ledge.

“Where’s the flax?” says he.

“Here te be,” says she. And she gonned it to him.

Well, come the evenin’, a knockin’ come agin to the winder. She upped an’ oped it, and there were the little oo’d thing, with five skeins of flax on his arm.

“Here te be,” says he, an’ he gonned it to her. “Now, what’s my name?” says he.

“What, is that Bill?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he. An’ he twirled his tail.

“Is that Ned?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he. An’ he twirled his tail.

“Well, is that Mark?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he. An’ he twirled his tail harder, an’ awa’ he flew.

Well, when her husban’ he come in, there was the five skeins riddy for him. “I see as I shorn’t hev to kill you tonight, me dare,” says he. “Yew’ll hev yar vittles, and yar flax in the mornin’,” says he, an’ away he goes.

Well, ivery day the flax an’ the vittles, they was browt, an’ ivery day that there little black impet used for to come mornin’s an’ evenin’s.

An’ all the day the mawther she set a-tryin’ fur to think of names to say to it when te come at night. But she nivver hot on the right one. An’ as that got to-warts the ind o’ the month, the impet that began for to look soo maliceful, an’ that twirled that’s tail faster an’ faster, each time she gave a guess.

At last te come to the last day but one. The impet that come at night along o’ the five skeins, an’ that said,

“What, hain’t yew got my name yet?”

“Is that Nicodemus?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t,” that says.

“Is that Sammle?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t,” that says.

“A-well, is that Methusalem?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t that norther,” he says.

Then that looks at her with that’s eyes like a cool o’ fire, an’ that says, “Woman, there’s only tomorrer night, an’ then yar’ll be mine.” An’ awa’ he flew.

Well, she felt that horrud. Howsomediver, she hard the king a-comin’ along the passage.

In he came, an’ when he sees the five skeins, he says, says he, “Well, me dare,” says he, “I don’t see but what yew’ll ha’ your skeins ready tomorrer night as well, an’ as I reckon I shorn’t ha’ to kill you, I’ll ha’ supper in here tonight.” So they brought supper, an’ another stool for him, and down the tew they sat.

Well, he hadn’t eat but a mouthful or so, when he stops an’ begins to laugh.

“What is it?” says she.

“A-why,” says he, “I was out a-huntin’ today, an’ I got away to a place in the wood I’d never seen afore. An’ there was an old chalk pit. An’ I heerd a sort of a hummin’, kind o’. So I got off my hobby, an’ I went right quiet to the pit, an’ I looked down. Well, what should there be but the funniest little black thing yew iver set eyes on. An’ what was that a-dewin’ on, but that had a little spinnin’ wheel, an’ that were a-spinnin’ wonnerful fast, an’ a-twirlin’ that’s tail. An’ as that span, that sang,

Nimmy nimmy not,

My name’s Tom Tit Tot.

Well, when the mawther heerd this, she fared as if she could a jumped outer her skin for joy, but she din’t say a word.

Next day, that there little thing looked soo maliceful when he come for the flax. An’ when night came, she heerd that a-knockin’ agin the winder panes. She oped the winder, an’ that come right in on the ledge. That were grinning from are to are, an’ oo! tha’s tail were twirlin’ round so fast.

“What’s my name?” that says, as that gonned her the skeins.

“Is that Solomon?” she says, pretendin’ to be afeard.

“Noo, t’ain’t,” that says, an’ that come fudder inter the room.

“Well, is that Zebedee?” says she agin.

“Noo, t’aint,” says the impet. An’ then that laughed an’ twirled that’s tail till yew cou’n’t hardly see it.

“Take time, woman,” that says, “next guess, an’ yew’re mine.” An’ that stretched out that’s black hands at her.

Well, she backed a step or two, an’ she looked at it, an’ then she laughed out, an’ says she, a-pointin’ of her finger at it,

Nimmy nimmy not,