Ferdinand the Bull

Once upon a time in sunny Spain,

there was a little bull

and his name was Ferdinand.

All the other little bulls he lived with

would run and jump

and butt their heads together.

But not Ferdinand.

He had his favourite spot

out in the pasture under a cork tree.

And he would sit just quietly

in its shade all day

and smell the flowers.

Sometimes his mother,

who was a cow,

would worry about him.

She was afraid he would be lonesome

all by himself.

Now, Ferdinand,

why don't you play with all the other

little bulls and butt your head.

But Ferdinand would shake his head.

I like it better here,

where I can sit just quietly

and smell the flowers.

And because

she was an understanding mother,

even though she was a cow,

she let him just sit there

and be happy.

As the years went by,

Ferdinand grew and grew and grew.

Until he was very big and very strong.

All the other bulls wanted most of all

to fight at the bullfights in Madrid.

But not Ferdinand.

He still liked to sit just quietly

under the cork tree

and smell the flowers.

One day, five men came in funny hats

to pick the biggest, fastest, roughest

bull to fight in the bullfights.

All the other bulls ran around, leaping

and puffing and butting their heads

so the men would think

they were strong and fierce

and pick them.

But not Ferdinand.

He knew they wouldn't pick him.

And he didn't care.

So he went out under his favourite

cork tree to sit down.

But he didn't look where he was sitting

and he sat on a bumblebee.

Ferdinand ran around puffing

and swatting as if he were crazy.

The five men saw him

and they all shouted with joy.

Look at him go.

Bravo.

This is the one.

So they took him away

for the bullfighting day in a cart.

What a day it was.

Flags were flying.

Bands were playing.

They had a parade into the bullring.

First came the banderilleros.

Next came the picador.

Then came the matador.

The proudest of all.

Then came the bull.

And you know who that was, don't you?

Ferdinand.

They called him Ferdinand the fierce.

And all the banderilleros

were afraid of him.

And the picadors were afraid of him.

And the matador, he was scared stiff.

When Ferdinand saw

the lovely flowers,

he ran to the middle of the ring

and everyone shouted.

Because they thought he was going

to fight fiercely.

But when he got to the middle of the ring,

he sat down just quietly

and smelled.

Banderilleros were mad

and the picadors were madder.

But the matador was

the maddest of all.

Come on, fight.

What's the matter? Be fierce.

Come on, come on.

Matador, he made very ugly faces.

But Ferdinand just sat and smelled.

The matador, he was furious.

He broke his sword in little pieces.

He stomped his feet.

He pulled his hair.

But still Ferdinand sat just quietly

and smelled.

He pleaded with Ferdinand.

Please. Please.

Stick me.

Do something.

Do something.

Give it to me.

The matador was so mad, he cried

because he couldn't show off

with his cape and sword.

So they had to take Ferdinand home.

And for all I know,

he's sitting there still

under his favourite cork tree

smelling the flowers

just quietly.

He is very happy.

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