There was once a poor woman who had a son, who much wished to travel, but his mother said, "How canst thou travel? We have no money at all for thee to take away with thee." Then said the son, "I will manage very well for myself; I will always say, 'Not much, not much, not much.'"
Der var engang en fattig kone, som havde en eneste søn. Han ville så gerne ud og se sig lidt om i verden, men moderen sagde: "Hvordan vil du bære dig ad med at rejse. Du kan jo ikke få en øre med." - "Jeg skal nok klare mig, lille mor," svarede han, "jeg siger blot hele tiden: ikke meget, ikke meget.
So he walked for a long time and always said, "Not much, not much, not much." Then he passed by a company of fishermen and said, "God speed you! not much, not much, not much." - "What sayst thou churl, not much?" And when the net was drawn out they had not caught much fish. So one of them fell on the youth with a stick and said, "Hast thou never seen me threshing?" - "What ought I to say, then?" asked the youth. "Thou must say, 'Get it full, get it full.'"
Han gik så af sted, mens han uophørlig sagde: "Ikke meget, ikke meget." En gang kom han forbi nogle fiskere og sagde også: "Goddag, ikke meget, ikke meget." - "Hvad siger du knægt," sagde de, men da de trak deres garn op, var der ikke ret mange fisk i. En af dem tog da en stok og pryglede løs på drengen. "Hvad skal jeg da sige," spurgte han. "Du skal sige: mange flere, mange flere," svarede fiskeren.
After this he again walked a long time, and said, "Get it full, get it full," until he came to the gallows, where they had got a poor sinner whom they were about to hang. Then said he, "Good morning; get it full, get it full." - "What sayst thou, knave, get it full? Dost thou want to make out that there are still more wicked people in the world is not this enough?" And he again got some blows on his back. "What am I to say, then?" said he. "Thou must say, 'May God have pity on the poor soul.'"
Han gik nu videre, og nogen tid efter kom han til en galge, hvor de var i færd med at hænge en stakkels fyr. "God morgen," sagde drengen, "mange flere, mange flere." - "Hvad er det, du siger, din slemme knægt," råbte folk, "tror du verden er fuld af onde mennsker, er det ikke nok med den ene," og så fik han igen på puklen. "Hvad vil I da have, jeg skal sige?" spurgte drengen. "Du skal sige: Gud trøste den arme sjæl."
Again the youth walked on for a long while and said, "May God have pity on the poor soul!" Then he came to a pit by which stood a knacker who was cutting up a horse. The youth said, "Good morning; God have pity on the poor soul!" - "What dost thou say, thou ill-tempered knave?" and the knacker gave him such a box on the ear, that he could not see out of his eyes. "What am I to say, then?" - "Thou must say, 'There lies the carrion in the pit!'"
Han gik nu videre og sagde hele tiden: "Gud trøste den arme sjæl." Lidt efter kom han til en grøft, hvor der stod en rakker og flåede skindet af en hest. "God morgen," sagde drengen, "Gud trøste den arme sjæl." - "Hvad er det du siger, din tossede knægt," skreg manden og slog ham om ørerne med sin slagterkniv, så han hverken kunne høre eller se. "Hvad skal jeg da sige?" spurgte drengen. "Du skal sige: I grøften med de ådsler."
So he walked on, and always said, "There lies the carrion in the pit, there lies the carrion in the pit." And he came to a cart full of people, so he said, "Good morning, there lies the carrion in the pit!" Then the cart pushed him into a hole, and the driver took his whip and cracked it upon the youth, till he was forced to crawl back to his mother, and as long as he lived he never went out a-travelling again.
Så gik han henad vejen og mumlede hele tiden: "I grøften med de ådsler." Lidt efter kom der en vogn fuld af folk forbi, og han sagde da: "Goddag, i grøften med de ådsler." I det samme rullede vognen ned i grøften, og kusken greb sin pisk og pryglede løs på drengen af alle kræfter. Så hinkede han hjem til sin mor igen, og drog aldrig mere på rejser.