Narrated Archives
Narrated Archives explores the extensive public domain library to offer listeners both enduring classics and forgotten tales. The content spans genres including adventure, mystery, horror, love, and the human spirit, all waiting to be rediscovered.
With each episode a brief biography of the author(s) introduces the episode.
Narrated Archives
More from Rootabaga Country
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Narrated Archives +
Exclusive access to bonus episodes!In the bonus episode of Narrated Archives we’re stepping further into a world that feels like a fantasy in Rootabaga Country.
In 1922, the legendary American poet Carl Sandburg decided that American children didn’t need any more stories about European knights or kings. He wanted a folklore that belonged to the prairies, the skyscrapers, and the railroads. The result was Rootabaga Stories—a collection so lyrical and nonsensical it feels like jazz put to paper.
Here is The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the Rheumatism Ran a Thousand Miles Twice
And
Shush Shush, the Big Buff Banty Hen Who Laid an Egg in the Postmaster’s Hat
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Welcome to another bonus episode of Narrated Archives. I’m your host, Sally Barron.
Today, we’re stepping further into a world that feels like a fantasy in Rootabaga Country.
In 1922, the legendary American poet Carl Sandburg decided that American children didn’t need any more stories about European knights or kings. He wanted a folklore that belonged to the prairies, the skyscrapers, and the railroads. The result was Rootabaga Stories—a collection so lyrical and nonsensical it feels like jazz put to paper.
Here is “The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the Rheumatism Ran a Thousand Miles Twice” and “Shush Shush, the Big Buff Banty Hen Who Laid an Egg in the Postmaster’s Hat”.
The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the Rheumatism Ran a Thousand Miles Twice
Blixie Bimber’s mother was chopping hash. And the hatchet broke. So Blixie started downtown with fifteen cents to buy a new hash hatchet for chopping hash.
Downtown she peeped around the corner next nearest the postoffice where the Potato Face Blind Man sat with his accordion. And the old man had his legs crossed, one foot on the sidewalk, the other foot up in the air.
The foot up in the air had a green rat sitting on it, tying the old man’s shoestrings in knots and double knots. Whenever the old man’s foot wiggled and wriggled the green rat wiggled and wriggled.
The tail of the rat wrapped five wraps around the shoe and then fastened and tied like a package.
On the back of the green rat was a long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of the tail. Two little white swipes stuck up over the eyelashes. And five short thick swipes of white played kitty-wants-a-corner back of the ears and along the ribs of the green rat.
They were talking, the old man and the green rat, talking about alligators and why the alligators keep their baby shoes locked up in trunks over the winter time—and why the rats in the moon lock their mittens in ice boxes.
“I had the rheumatism last summer a year ago,” said the rat. “I had the rheumatism so bad I ran a thousand miles south and west till I came to the Egg Towns and stopped in the Village of Eggs Up.”
“So?” quizzed the Potato Face.
“There in the Village of Eggs Up, they asked me, ‘Do you know how to stop the moon moving?’ I answered them, ‘Yes, I know how—a baby alligator told me—but I told the baby alligator I wouldn’t tell.’
“Many years ago there in that Village of Eggs Up they started making a skyscraper to go up till it reached the moon. They said, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’
“The bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers went higher and higher making that skyscraper, till at last they were half way up to the moon, saying to each other while they worked, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’
“Yes, they were halfway up to the moon. And that night looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving,’ and they said later, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’
“And the bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers said to each other, ‘If we go on now and make this skyscraper it will miss the moon and we will never go up in the elevator and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’
“So they took the skyscraper down and started making it over again, aiming it straight at the moon again. And one night standing looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving,’ saying later to each other, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’
“And now they stand in the streets at night there in the Village of Eggs Up, stretching their necks looking at the moon, and asking each other, ‘Why does the moon move and how can we stop the moon moving?’
“Whenever I saw them standing there stretching their necks looking at the moon, I had a zig-zag ache in my left hind foot and I wanted to tell them what the baby alligator told me, the secret of how to stop the moon moving. One night that ache zig-zagged me so— way inside my left hind foot—it zig-zagged so I ran home here a thousand miles.”
The Potato Face Blind Man wriggled his shoe—and the green rat wriggled—and the long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of the tail of the green rat wriggled.
“Is your rheumatism better?” the old man asked.
The rat answered, “Any rheumatism is better if you run a thousand miles twice.”
And Blixie Bimber going home with the fifteen cent hash hatchet for her mother to chop hash, Blixie said to herself, “It is a large morning to be thoughtful about.”
Shush Shush, the Big Buff Banty Hen Who Laid an Egg in the Postmaster’s Hat
Shush Shush was a big buff banty hen. She lived in a coop. Sometimes she marched out of the coop and went away and laid eggs. But always she came back to the coop.
And whenever she went to the front door and laid an egg in the door-bell, she rang the bell once for one egg, twice for two eggs, and a dozen rings for a dozen eggs.
Once Shush Shush went into the house of the Sniggers family and laid an egg in the piano. Another time she climbed up in the clock and laid an egg in the clock. But always she came back to the coop.
One summer morning Shush Shush marched out through the front gate, up to the next corner and the next, till she came to the post office. There she walked into the office of the postmaster and laid an egg in the postmaster’s hat.
The postmaster put on his hat, went to the hardware store and bought a keg of nails. He took off his hat and the egg dropped into the keg of nails.
The hardware man picked up the egg, put it in his hat, and went out to speak to a policeman. He took off his hat, speaking to the policeman, and the egg dropped on the sidewalk.
The policeman picked up the egg and put it in his police hat. The postmaster came past; the policeman took off his police hat and the egg dropped down on the sidewalk.
The postmaster said, “I lost that egg, it’s my egg,” picked it up, put it in his postmaster’s hat and forgot all about having an egg in his hat.
Then the postmaster, a long tall man, came to the door of the post office, a short small door. And the postmaster didn’t stoop low, didn’t bend under, so he bumped his hat and his head on the top of the doorway. And the egg broke and ran down over his face and neck.
And long before that happened, Shush Shush was home in her coop, standing in the door saying, “It is a big day for me because I laid one of my big buff banty eggs in the postmaster’s hat.”
There Shush Shush stays, living in a coop. Sometimes she marches out of the coop and goes away and lays eggs in pianos, clocks, and hats. But she always comes back to the coop.
And whenever she goes to the front door and lays an egg in the door-bell, she rings the bell once for one egg, twice for two eggs, and a dozen rings for a dozen eggs.
I hope you were able to let go of reality and visual Sanburg’s Rootabaga Country world. More bonus episodes are on the way. Thank you very much for subscribing and listening to Narrated Archives.