Joined: 31 Aug 2011 Posts: 133 Location: Vê-nê-zu-ê-la
I see this work won't do
Then the fiddler went out and cut willows, and brought them home, and she began to weave; but it made her fingers very sore.
'I see this work won't do,' he said, 'try and spin; perhaps you will do that better.'
So she sat down and tried to spin; but the threads cut her tender fingers until the blood ran.
'See now,' said the fiddler, 'you are good for nothing; you can do no work. What a bargain I have got! However, I'll try and set up a trade in pots and pans, and you shall stand in the market and sell them.'
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