Once upon a time, there were three billy-goat brothers named Gruff. There was Big Billy Goat Gruff, who was the oldest and, of course, the biggest. There was Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff, and Little Billy Goat Gruff, who was the youngest and the smallest. They lived in a rocky valley. When spring came, they began to search for grass to eat. They jumped from one rock to another, but couldn’t find enough to fill their stomachs.
High on the mountainside above the valley, the brothers could see a beautiful green pasture, with tall, lush grass. It made their empty stomachs rumble.
“Let’s climb the mountain to find some sweet grass to eat,” suggested Big Billy Goat Gruff.
Off they set. By lunchtime, they had reached a rushing river that was impossible to cross without using the rickety bridge that stretched across it. But under the bridge lived a troll – a rotten-toothed, wart-nosed, billy goat-eating troll, which is the worst kind.
Little Billy Goat Gruff was the first to cross the bridge. Trip trap, trip trap, trippety-trippety trap, went his hooves as he skipped across. Tinkle, tinkle went the tiny bell around his neck.
“Who is that skipping over my bridge?” growled the troll from under the planks.
“It is only me,” said Little Billy Goat Gruff.
“I am going to gobble you up,” threatened the troll.
“Please Mr. Troll, don’t eat me. I am tiny and bony.
I won’t taste very good. Wait for my brother. He is bigger and much tastier.”
“All right,” snarled the troll. “You can cross my bridge today, but I’ll eat you when you return from the pasture, round and fat.” So Little Billy Goat Gruff made it to the other side of the river.
Next came Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff. Trip trap, trip trap, trippety-trippety trap, went his hooves as he trotted across. Ding, dong went the bell around his neck.
“Who is that trotting over my bridge?” shouted the troll, shaking the bridge with his slimy, green arms.
“It is only me,” said Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff.
“I am going to gobble you up,” threatened the troll.
“Please Mr. Troll, don’t eat me. I am only a middle-sized billy goat and not big enough for your lunch.
Wait for my brother. He is bigger than me and much tastier.”
“Today is your lucky day. I’ll let you cross my bridge, but I’ll eat you when you return from the pasture, round and fat,” said the troll. So Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff reached the other side of the river.
Last came Big Billy Goat Gruff. TRIP TRAP, TRIP TRAP, BISH BASH BOSH went his great big hooves as he stomped across. CLANG, CLANG went the huge bell slung around his neck.
“Who is that stomping over my bridge?” roared the troll, glaring through the planks of the bridge with his one eye which was the size of a big, juicy watermelon.
“I’m their BIG BROTHER,” came the reply.
“At last!” roared the troll. “I’m going to gobble you up.” And he leapt onto the bridge.
“OK. I think you’ll find I’m big enough to eat,” laughed Big Billy Goat Gruff, and he lowered his head, aiming his two great horns at the troll. He galloped along the bridge, lifted the troll with his long horns and tossed him up into the air. Down tumbled the troll into the swirling river and he was never seen again.
“Let’s go,” said Big Billy Goat Gruff. So the brothers trotted up to the pasture, where they ate lush, green grass all summer long, until they were round and fat and full.
