The Three Billy Goats Gruff

There were once Three bil­ly goats who were all broth­ers and who shared the last name of Gruff.  One day, the lit­tlest bil­ly goat decid­ed to go onto the hill­side where the grass grew lush and green.  There, he thought, he could eat all the deli­cious grass he want­ed.  But first he had to go over a bridge that crossed a stream.  Trit-trot, trit-trot, the lit­tle bil­ly goat’s hooves tapped the planks as he made his way across the bridge.

WHO’S CROSSING MY BRIDGE?” Growled the voice of an ugly troll who lived beneaththe bridge in its mossy shad­ows.

It is only I,” bleat­ed a small voice, “the lit­tlest bil­ly goat.”


Oh, please Mr. Troll,” cried the lit­tlest bil­ly goat.  “Please, don’t eat me!  I’m so small, I’d bare­ly make a mouth­ful.  But my broth­er, the sec­ond bil­ly goat, who is much big­ger and fat­ter than I am, will be by here soon.  Why don’t you eat him instead?”

Oh, alright,” the troll grum­bled as he set­tled back onto his slimy rock, “but get off my bridge!”

Much relieved, the lit­tlest bil­ly goat trot­ted over the bridge and up the hill­side, where he imme­di­ate­ly began to enjoy the lush, green grass.

Soon, the sec­ond bil­ly goat saw his broth­er graz­ing hap­pi­ly on the hill­side and decid­ed that he too would like to dine there.  Trip-trap, Trip-trap, the sec­ond bil­ly goat’s hooves souned on the planks of the old bridge.

WHO’S CROSSING MY BRIDGE?!” growled the troll from beneath those planks.

It is only I,” said a medi­um-sized voice, “the sec­ond bil­ly goat.”


Oh, please Mr. Troll” cried the goat.  “Please don’t eat me!” I would­n’t make much of a meal com­pared to my big broth­er the biggest bil­ly goat.  He’s much big­ger and fat­ter than I am.  Why don’t you eat him instead when he comes by?”

Oh, alright,”  grum­bled the Troll, who was get­ting hun­gri­er and crab­bier, “but get the heck off my bridge!”

So, with a sigh ofre­lief, the sec­ond bil­ly goat hur­ried over the bridge and up the hill­side where he and his lit­tle broth­er togeth­er enjoyed the lush, green grass.

Soon, the biggest bil­ly goat noticed that his lit­tle broth­ers were get­ting fat on the hill­side and he decid­ed to join them.  CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP, the biggest bil­ly goat’s hooves sound­ed loud­ly as he walked across the bridge and the planks bent under his weight.

WHO IS CROSSING MY BRIDGE?!” growled the hun­gry troll.

IT IS I,” growled a large voice in return, “I  AM THE BIGGEST BILLY GOAT!  WHO ARE YOU?”

I AM THE TROLL!” came a snarling reply.  ” AND THIS IS MY BRIDGE YOU ARE CLOMPING OVER!  SO NOW, BIGGEST BILLY GOAT, I’M GOING TO GOBBLE YOU UP!” and with that the great drool­ing troll came climb­ing up over the edge of the bridge.

With­out anoth­er word, the biggest bil­ly goat low­ered his head, posi­tioned his horns and charged, full force, into the oncom­ing troll.

There was a louse SPLASH as the troll fell into the riv­er.  Instant­ly, the swift cur­rent car­ried him down­stream, around the bend and out of sight.  The biggest bil­ly goat snort­ed, and then casu­al­ly strolled across the bridge and up the hill­side.

There, he joined his broth­ers and, if they are not gone, then they are there still, enjoy­ing the lush, green grass.