There is an ancient folktale about a wanderer who pulls a magical soup stone out of his pack and shows it to the astonished villagers.
Asked to demonstrate it, he has an onlooker fetch a cauldron, into which he places the stone, with appropriate ceremony and gestures.
Now, he requisitions a bunch of carrots and several large onions from the village storehouse.
Eager volunteers contribute beans, scraps of meat, and various spices, all of which goes into the pot.
Two strapping young peasants fill the pot with water from the nearby well and hang it over the communal hearth.
The water begins to bubble, and soon a tantalizing aroma fills the air. The wanderer sniffs at the soup, tastes it, then nods sagely.
He reaches in with a ladle, removes the stone, and returns it to his pack after letting it cool.
The grateful villagers fill a large wooden bowl with the delicious soup for him, and he eats until his belly can hold no more.
His hunger satisfied, he departs, leaving behind him a wondrous tale of a magical stone that conjures up the best soup that anyone can remember.
I’ve played and sung this song for years but do not have any very good recordings of it. Charlotte Haskin heard me sing this at a family reunion a long time ago and wanted the lyrics:
Here are the lyrics by Shel Silverstein.
Enjoy Gerry
