'The sun's set! The sun's set!' Seisaku said as he busily pressed down the earth on the barnyard grass seedlings he had just planted.
The amber sun had already disappeared behind the blue varnished mountains to the south and the fields were now strangely sad and lonely. From the white birch trees a fine powder seemed to spew forth into the air.
Suddenly the sound of a strange voice could be heard coming from over in the direction of the oak grove. Someone was murdering a song at the top of his voice.
'A saffron chapeau, dum-diddly-dee!'
The colour drained from Seisaku's face as he stood there stock still in amazement. Dropping his hoe to the ground he ran as quietly as he could over towards the oak grove.
Barely had he reached the wood when suddenly he was grabbed around the neck from behind. Caught by surprise Seisaku turned round and saw before him an extremely tall, sharp-eyed artist who was fuming with anger. On his head he wore a red Turkish hat and on his feet leather shoes. His strange grey smock flapped about, sizes too big for him.
'What do you think you're doing, walking round here that like, creeping about on all fours as if you were a mouse? Well, what have you got to say for yourself then? '
Seisaku was at a loss for words.
'If this guy's looking for a fight, I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget, ' he thought to himself. Then looking up into the sky he suddenly yelled out at the top of his voice, 'A red chapeau, dum-diddly-dee!'
The tall artist suddenly let go of Seisaku's neck and burst into laughter like a dog howling at the moon, the noise echoing throughout the wood.
'Wonderful! That really is excellent! What would you say to us going for a walk in the woods, then? How about it? Oh, of course! We haven 't even said hello properly yet, have we? Well, if it's all right with you, I 'll start. 'Good evening! The finely chopped shadows are scattered in the fields. ' What do you think? Not a bad way of saying hello, wouldn't you agree? Now it 's your turn. Ahem, ahem!' the artist said clearing his throat as if in anticipation. His face suddenly assumed a look of contempt as he scornfully peered down his nose at Seisaku.
Seisaku felt totally confused. It was late in the evening and he was hungry. Gazing up into the sky, it seemed to him as if the clouds were made of rice cakes. In his panic he blurted out 'eh.Good evening! What a lovely evening it is, too! eh... The sky is covered with bean flour. I 'm sorry, but that's all I can think of.'
The artist however was evidently delighted with this, clapping his hands as he leaped up and down with joy.
'Come on, you. Let's go off into the woods! Tonight I'm the guest of the Great King of the Oak Grove. Come with me and I 'll show you something you won't forget.'
The artist all at once became very serious and hoisting his red and white paint box splashed and smeared with paint onto his shoulders he quickly strode off into the midst of the wood. His hoe left behind, Seisaku idly swung his hands about as he followed the artist into the grove.
Inside the wood was full of a cinnamon-like smell and everything looked a pale yellow. On entering the grove the third tree they came across seemed as if about to break into a dance its leg poised in the air. As it caught sight of them approaching however, the tree stopped dead in surprise. Then looking very embarrassed it licked the knee of its raised leg and carefully watched them out of the corner of its eye as they walked past. As Seisaku ambled by, the tree sneered at him with contempt.
'Oh well, can't be helped, I suppose,' Seisaku thought to himself as he followed on behind the artist in silence. But as they walked on, it seemed to Seisaku that whereas all the trees greeted the artist with a smile, to him they did nothing but frown.
In the gloomy twilight one gnarled and knotty oak suddenly stuck out its leg in an effort to trip Seisaku up as he walked by, but seeing the danger he leaped over the outstretched leg with a 'Oh no you don't!'
'What's the matter?' the artist asked looking around, but without even waiting for an answer he quickly walked off again.
The wind blowing through the trees, they tried to frighten Seisaku with their creepy ghoulish voices, whispering as he passed 'serasera sera Seisaku sera-sera-sera-baah!'
But Seisaku not to be outdone opened his mouth as wide as he could and screamed 'Hera-hera-hera Seisaku hera-hera-hera-ba-baah!'
Frightened out of their senses the trees fell silent, their silence only broken by the staccato laughter of the artist as he struggled for breath, 'A-haha, a-haha!'
At last after a long trek through the woods the two travellers finally found themselves before the Great King of the Oak Grove, a massive tree that loomed up in the darkness with its nineteen arms all told, and one fat sturdy leg. All around him stood his mighty entourage, all of them loyal down to the last tree.
The artist dropped his paint box down onto the ground with a thud. His back bent with age the king addressed the artist in a low deep voice.
'Back among us already, eh? We'd been expecting you. And who's this then, this new visitor to our woods? If I were you, I 'd have nothing to do with him. He's a criminal with a record longer than your arm. Ninety eight convictions he 's had, I tell you!'
'You're lying!' Seisaku thundered in anger. 'I'm not a criminal,I'm an honest man! You hear me! '
'What are you talking about?' The king angrily replied throwing out his rugged chest in defiance. 'We've got the evidence to prove it. It's all written down and noted in our files. There are still ninety eight traces of you and your darned axe left scattered around this here wood even today, I 'll have you know!'
'Hahaha! Oh, this really is too funny! By ninety eight traces you mean the ninety eight tree trunks that I chopped down, don 't you? Well, what of it? Those trees I paid for, fair and square.I bought them from Tosuke for two large bottles of sake, and he owns round here. '
'Well, why won't you buy me any sake then?' The king asked.
'Why the hell should I? I've got no reason to buy you any.'
'I could give you many reasons why you ought to buy me some! Now come on, cough up, dammit! '
'Get out of here! I got no reason buying you anything!'
The artist frowned as he stood there dejectedly listening to them quarrel. Then pointing through the trees over towards the East, he suddenly shouted,
'Come on, you two, stop your bickering or you'll be laughed at by the Round Master on high! '
Over in the East the large friendly peach blossom moon rose up over the dark blue mountain peaks and around it there glowed a pale green halo. All the young trees stretched out their arms towards it as if about to jump up and fly into the air.
'Dear moon, dear beloved moon, Forgive us for not recognizing you You look so different tonight Forgive us for not recognizing you.'
The Great King of the Oaks twisted his white beard, murmuring as if to himself. Gazing intently at the moon, he then quietly began to sing.
'Tonight you wear Your best pink kimono. Tonight in the oak grove It is the third night of the summer dance. Soon you will wear Your everyday pale blue kimono. Joy and happiness reign in our wood As long as you are in the sky.'
The artist enthusiastically clapped his hands.
'Wonderful! Bravo! Indeed, it's the third night of the summer dance. Come on, everyone, I want you all to step out and sing a song. The words and melody should be all your own. I 'll paintsong. The words and melody should be all your own. I'll paint some big medals to give to the best nine contestants and tomorrow I 'll hang them on your branches for you.'
Seisaku was really having a good time and in his excitement he blurted out, 'Yep, that's right. And for the worst nine of you, I've got a special prize! Tomorrow I 'll chop you down and drag you off to a place where they'll scare the living daylights out of you. '
'Wash your mouth out, you impudent little toad!' The Great Oak King said angrily.
'Who you calling toad? I'm only going to cut down nine and besides I already paid for them ages ago when I bought Tosuke all that sake. '
'Well, why won't you buy me any then?'
'Why the hell should I? No reason to buy you any.'
'I could give you many reasons why you ought to! So, come on, cough up! '
'No way!'
A frown on his face, the artist impatiently waved his hands in the air ordering them to stop.
'Oh really! You're not at it again, are you! The stars are already out in the sky and I want things to go smoothly tonight so let 's get on with the singing, shall we? Allright? I'll go first. This song is called 'The Song of the Prizes'.
'The first prize is a platinum medal. The second prize is a gold medal. The third prize is a quicksilver medal. The fourth prize is a nickel medal. The fifth prize is a zinc medal. The sixth prize is a fake medal. The seventh prize is a lead medal. The eighth prize is a tin plate medal. The ninth prize is a wooden match medal. And from tenth prize to a hundredth prize there will medals of I don't know what! '
The Great Oak King was in a better mood already and he laughed with all his might, 'Wahaha, wahaha!' The other oaks stood round forming a semi-circle in front of their king.
The moon was now changing, putting on its pale blue kimono. The wood looked like the bottom of shallow water and the shadows of the trees fell onto the ground like a thin net.
The artist's red hat seemed to flicker with flame as he stood stock still holding his notebook in his hand. He licked his pencil. 'Come on, then. Let's get on with it! Hurry up and begin, you lot! The sooner you sing, the better your score will be. '
A small oak jumped out from the semi-circle with a bound and bowed before the king. The moonlight suddenly turned blue.
'What's the title of your song?' the artist asked with a serious look on his face.
'The horse and the rabbit.'
'Okay. Let's hear it, then,' the artist said writing down the title in his notebook.
'The ears of the rabbit are lon-'
'Hold on a sec,' the artist said interrupting.'My pencil's broken.Just wait a moment, would you, while I sharpen it. '
The artist then took off his right shoe and used it to collect the shavings as he sharpened his pencil. All the oak trees watched from a distance in amazement, whispering among themselves as they looked on. Finally their king spoke.
'Really, you're too kind. I am touched by your consideration and am truly grateful for your efforts to keep our wood clean. '
'What are you on about ?' the artist replied nonchalantly. I'm going to make vinegar from these shavings later on... '
Even the king seemed a little put out at this, turning away in embarrassment. The trees all felt as if their fun had been spoilt and even the moonlight seemed to pale and blanch.
His pencil-sharpening over, the artist got up again and said affably,'Okay, let 's get started!'
The oaks began to stir, the moonlight regained its bluish transparency and even the king seemed to be in better spirits, murmuring to himself contentedly.
The young oak tree thrust out its chest and began to sing once more.
'The ears of a rabbit are long But not as long As the ears of a horse.
'Brilliant! Superb! Hahaha! Hohoho!' Everyone fell about in laughter and applause.
'I award you first prize - the platinum medal!' the artist cried out in a loud voice, making a note in his book.
'My song is called The Song of the Foxes,' said the second oak to step forth. The moonlight turned slightly green.
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
'Foxy fox, you little fox, Your tail caught fire On a moonlit night.'
'Brilliant! Superb! Hahaha! Hohoho!'
'I award you second prize - the gold medal!'
'I'm next! My song is called The Cat Song.'
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
'The country cat Meows and purrs The town cat Meows and purrs.'
'Brilliant! Superb! Hahaha! Hohoho!'
'I award you third prize - the quicksilver medal! Come on, you lot! I want some of you bigger trees taking part too, you know! What are you all hesitating for? Let 's get quick about it!' the artist said looking at them rather scornfully.
'My song is called The Walnut Tree Song,' said one of the slightly larger trees as he shyly stepped forward.
'Righty-ho! Okay, everyone, quieten down now!'
The oak tree began to sing.
'The walnut tree rustles in the wind Its leaves all golden and green. The walnut tree flutters its tengu fans in the wind Its leaves all golden and green.'
'What a beautiful tenor voice, beautiful! Bravo!'
'I award you fourth prize - the nickel medal!'
'My song is called The Monkey's Seat.'
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
The tree put its hands on its hips and began to sing.
'Little monkey, little monkey, Your seat is all wet, All wet and mushy with mist it is, Your seat is all rotten through.'
'What a beautiful tenor voice, beautiful! Bravo!'
'I award you fifth prize - the zinc medal!'
'My song is called The Chapeau Song,' said the oak who had earlier tried to trip Seisaku up as he entered the wood.
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
'A saffron chapeau, dum-diddly-dee! A red chapeau, dum-diddly-dee!' 'Brilliant! Superb! Bravo!'
'I award you sixth prize - the fake medal!'
Seisaku who had up until then listened to the proceedings quietly with a resigned air suddenly cried out, 'What are you on about ?That song's not original! You heard us singing it earlier on and thought you 'd use it for yourself!'
'Shut up, you impudent whelk! This has got nothing to do with you!'the Oak King thundered, quivering with rage.
'Oh yeah? It's a second-hand song, you hear, nothing but a cheap imitation. You go round calling me names like that and I 'll show you what's what. Tomorrow I'll bring my axe and chop you all down,one by one! '
'What damned cheek! And how do you suppose you'd ever get away with it?
'Just you wait. Tomorrow I'll go and buy Tosuke two large bottles of sake and then you 'll be in trouble!'
'If you're buying him sake, why won't you buy me any?'
'Why the hell should I? No reason to buy you any.'
'Buy me some, damn you!'
'No way!'
'Calm down, you two, and stop your bickering. The song's a fake so I'm giving it the fake medal. Now let 's not have any more arguing about it, ok? Right, who's next up to sing? Come on, let 's behaving you!'
The moonlight was transparent blue and the wood was like the bottom of a lake.
'My song is called Seisaku's Song,' said a young, strong oak stepping forward to sing.
'What the blazes!' His fists flaying Seisaku charged forward only to be held back by the artist.
'Woo ! Hold your horses, there! Just because you heard your name mentioned doesn 't mean they've insulted you. Let's just listen to the song first, shall we, before jumping to conclusions.When you 're ready!'
Bobbing up and down, the young oak began to sing.
'In his lance-corporal's uniform Seisaku went out into the fields And picked many grapes.
That's as far as I go. I'll leave it to someone else to continue.'
'Hahaha, hohoho!' All the trees erupted in a storm of laughter,obviously enjoying Seisaku 's discomfort.
'I award you seventh prize - the lead medal!'
'I'll continue the song,' said another oak stepping forward.
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
The tree glanced over at Seisaku laughing slightly scornfully as if to make fun of him. Then with sudden seriousness he launched into his song.
'Seisaku squeezed the juice out of all the grapes Added sugar And bottled it. Come on, someone. You add the next bit.'
'Hahaha, hohoho !' The trees howled with laughter that blew through the wood like a weird wind. They were certainly having fun at Seisaku 's expense. He for his part was itching to leap forward and strike them all down, one after another, but just in time the artist stepped into his path blocking the way.
'I award you eighth prize - the tin plate medal!'
'I'll go next,' said yet another oak stepping forward.
'Righty-ho, let's hear it!'
'All the wine bottles Seisaku had stored in the barn Went pop! pop! pop! all in a row And now there is not one drop left!'
'Hahaha, hohoho ! Hahaha, hohoho!' The trees collapsed in a frenzy of laughter, rolling about on the floor.
'Shut up, damn you! Why on earth do you lot always have to drag up gossip from the past? That 's an old story that only you lot like to remember.'
Seisaku was raring to let fly at them but the artist firmly held him in check.
'I award you ninth prize - the wooden match medal ! Come on,who's next? Let 's be having you!'
None of the trees moved. They were all suddenly silent.
'Now this won't do at all! Come on, sing, damn you! You are all going to have to sing, whether you like it or not, you know! '
The artist's words were to no avail. No one moved.
'The next prize I award will be the best one yet, so come on, you lot, let 's hear you sing!'
There was a rustling of leaves as the trees at last began to stir.
Just then from somewhere deep in the woods there came the sound of murmuring and all of a sudden a large flock of owls flew by.Flapping their wings in the bluish moonlight they settled on the heads and shoulders, the arms and chests of the oaks.
'Too-wit-too-woo The moon on high Too-wit-too-woo-too-woo.'
The Owl General dressed in splendid gold braid, swiftly and silently flew through the air alighting before the Great Oak King.The bright red bags under his eyes looked most peculiar and he must certainly have been a very old owl indeed.
'Good evening to you, Great King and also to your honourable guests. We have just finished our hunting drills for the night and were wondering if you might be interested in holding a joint dance with us by any chance? Just a while ago we heard such sweet and melodious singing coming from over here that we felt we just simply had to come over and see what was going on. '
'What do you mean, such sweet and melodious singing ?' Seisaku yelled out at him. 'Damn it all!'
Pretending to have not heard his outburst, the Great Oak King nodded his approval to the owl leader.
'A very fine suggestion to which I hereby grant my warmest blessings. Well, let 's get started straight away, shall we?'
'That's wonderful !' Turning to face everyone, the Owl General began to sing in a voice sweeter than sugar.
'As Kanzaemon the crow Shakes his sleepy black head And Tozaemon the kite Dozes on two litres of oil, We fearless owls with our hearts full of courage Are busy catching worms And attacking birds in their sleep All under the cover of night.'
The owls all went wild, whooping it up with their too-wit-too-woo.
'I must say your song does seem a little vulgar to me, not quite the sort of thing for a man of noble character to listen to... '
The Owl General looked at him askance. Suddenly his adjutant festooned with red and white ribbons burst into laughter.
'Come now, let us not argue with one another tonight. Don't worry, we'll make sure the next song is much more dignified. Let us all join in a dance! Are all the trees ready? Are all the owls ready? Let the dance begin! '
'Dear moon on high, dear moon, dear moon! You are so round, so round, so round! Dear stars in the sky, dear stars, dear stars! You shine so bright, so bright, so bright! The oaks go kan-kara-kan! The owls go too-wit-too-woo!
Raising their hands into the air the oak trees threw back their heads and danced for all they were worth. With great aplomb the owls flapped their silvery wings in time to the dancing. The moonlight faintly glimmered like a pearl as the Great Oak King joyfully sang his reply.
'The rain splashes down splish-splash-splosh, The wind howls and moans a-woo, a-woo, The hail hammers down parap-parap-parap, The rain splashes down splish-splash-splosh.'
'Oh no! Mist's falling!' the adjutant suddenly cried out and indeed the moon was already veiled in mist. It was now nothing more than a faint circle of light dimly visible as the fog fell upon the oak grove like an arrow piercing the air.
The trees seemed to lose all self-control. In a twinkling of an eye they were as if turned to stone, caught in mid-dance with one leg in the air and their hands stretched out before them.
The cold misty air blew against Seisaku's cheeks. The artist was nowhere to be seen and only his red hat remained, left behind on the ground as if forgotten.
An owl, obviously one not yet used to flying in fog, could be heard flapping its wings about as it tried to escape. Out of the corner of their eye, the oaks sadly watched Seisaku go.
Leaving the wood, he looked up into the sky. The place where the moon had earlier been was now gradually getting light and a black cloud in the shape of a dog was running across the sky. From over in the direction of the marshy wood that lay far off behind the oak grove the artist 's voice could be faintly heard. He was singing at the top of his voice.
'A red chapeau, dum-diddly-dee!'