So Billy
told him. "Don't fret yourself about me," said the bull, "it's not I
that'll be killed!"
The day came, when Billy Beg's bull was to be killed; all the people were
there, and the queen, and Billy. And the bull was led out, to be seen.
When he was led past Billy he bent his head. "Jump on my back, Billy, my
boy," says he, "till I see what kind of a horseman you are!" Billy jumped
on his back, and with that the bull leaped nine miles high and nine miles
broad and came down with Billy sticking between his horns. Then away he
rushed, over the head of the queen, killing her dead, where you wouldn't
know day by night or night by day, over high hills, low hills, sheep walks
and bullock traces, the Cove o' Cork, and old Tom Fox with his bugle horn.
When at last he stopped he said, "Now, Billy, my boy, you and I must
undergo great scenery; there's a mighty great bull of the forest I must
fight, here, and he'll be hard to fight, but I'll be able for him. But
first we must have dinner. Put your hand in my left ear and pull out the
napkin you'll find there, and when you've spread it, it will be covered
with eating and drinking fit for a king."
So Billy put his hand in the bull's left ear, and drew out the napkin, and
spread it; and, sure enough, it was spread with all kinds of eating and
drinking, fit for a king.
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